


out of the woods

by jungwooed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crushes, FBI Agent Huang Renjun, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The X-Files, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Small Towns, Strangers to Lovers, UFOs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungwooed/pseuds/jungwooed
Summary: Special Agent Renjun Huang from the DC field office was an enigma.There were many rumors about him. People speculated that he was the favorite agent of Mark Lee, supervisory special agent of the Classified Terrorism Task Force. There was one that was widely circulated through the DC office about him sleeping upside down from the ceiling like a bat. There was another popular narrative shared in a group email claiming his task force was a branch of the Illuminati. Someone even tried to accuse Renjun of being a Chinese spy in the break room one day.However, the strangest, most outlandish, the most positively ridiculous claim ever made about Renjun Huang and his task force was that they were in charge of covering up UFO sightings and alien abductions.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Park Jisung
Comments: 16
Kudos: 105
Collections: the rensung files





	out of the woods

**Author's Note:**

> #RS030 
> 
> small cw for some mild blood/gore. if this kind of thing makes you uncomfortable, the scene begins with "Renjun put the towel in his mouth" and ends at "'I'm sorry'" 
> 
> hope you enjoy :]

Special Agent Renjun Huang from the DC field office was an enigma. 

There were many rumors about him. People speculated that he was the favorite agent of Mark Lee, supervisory special agent of the Classified Terrorism Task Force. There was one that was widely circulated through the DC office about him sleeping upside down from the ceiling like a bat. There was another popular narrative shared in a group email claiming his task force was a branch of the Illuminati. Someone even tried to accuse Renjun of being a Chinese spy in the break room one day.

However, the strangest, most outlandish, the most _positively ridiculous_ claim ever made about Renjun Huang and his task force was that they were in charge of covering up UFO sightings and alien abductions. 

One agent had innocently sparked those whisperings around the water cooler, likely out of pure boredom and the desire to spice up the workplace gossip. Unfortunately, they went mysteriously missing the following day, and despite the _tireless efforts_ of the FBI to track them down, no one had seen them since. 

Renjun whistled a tune as he walked to his cubicle. The office part of his job wasn’t very glamorous, and as much as people liked to think his job was one big, glorified adrenaline rush, most of his days were spent chipping away at a mountain of paperwork accumulated on his desk. 

He sat down with a mug of coffee, fresh from the pot in the break room. Government coffee was delicious, and they were always heavily stocked on flavored creamers and various plant-based milks. He silently thanked the taxpayers of America as he sipped on his decadent hazelnut latte. The same one he drank every day. 

Renjun’s office wasn’t decorated like how everyone else’s was. He had no photographs or birthday cards or novelty calendars. His walls were bare and there was no clutter on his desk. He dusted his office space every two days and vacuumed once a week. His sterile work environment and methodical cleaning habits probably didn’t help in quashing the rumors that he was a cyborg, but Renjun had learned to embrace the strange notions people seemed to have about him and his work. 

He sighed, leaning back in his chair contentedly as he shook the sleepiness from his bones. He cracked his knuckles and booted up his computer. Every morning he had to sift through a multitude of emails and decide which ones were deserving of a response. He skipped over the email from Donghyuck with the subject line ‘Tiny Horse Meets Chicken For The First Time.’

Being an office outcast was occasionally lonely, but the members of his task force had become something like a family. With the classified nature of their work, they were the only people he could talk to comfortably in the office. Water cooler conversation was landmine-infested territory for any one of them. People loved gossip, and special agents especially hated being kept in the dark. 

“Good morning, Agent Huang.” Renjun groaned and set his coffee down on his desk, already mourning the loss of his peaceful morning. 

“What do you want, Agent Na?” 

“Touchy this morning, aren’t we?” Jaemin grinned and stuck a plain bagel in his mouth. He shoved aside a stack of very strategically organized papers and sat on Renjun’s desk, right by his clunky computer. 

“Get off my desk,” Renjun said through gritted teeth, picking up his stack of documents and cradling them close to his chest. He felt anger bubble in the pit of his stomach when he saw some of the sticky notes had been bent and crumpled. 

“I bring good tidings, my dear Injunnie,” Jaemin said, barely comprehensible through the bagel stuck between his teeth. Renjun reached out and tore the bagel from Jaemin’s mouth, earning him a muffled whine of protest. 

“I highly doubt that. And don’t call me Injunnie.”

“I’m serious! It’s good news this time.” 

Renjun narrowed his eyes, still suspicious. “What is it?”

“You have a mission. Alone.” 

He perked up at that. “A solo mission? Are you sure?” 

“Yup.” Jaemin popped the “p” obnoxiously. “You have a meeting with the boss at noon.” 

“And why didn’t he come and tell me this himself?” 

“I heard it through the grapevine. You should be getting a summons any time now…” 

Right on time, Renjun got a notification on his computer. An email from Supervisory Special Agent Mark Lee with the subject line “Meeting @ 12:00. My office.” 

“Don’t be late! Heard it’s important. There may be a _promotion_ on the line.” Jaemin grinned deviously, hopping off the desk and rushing out of his office before Renjun could grab him by the scruff of the neck and force him to elaborate under the harsh light of his desk lamp. He sighed as he watched Jaemin’s head of bright pink hair bob up and down as he jogged through the maze of cubicles. Dick. 

Renjun turned back to his computer, writing a very formal and very respectful reply to Mark’s email. Just in case Jaemin was right and there really _was_ potential for a promotion. 

Renjun managed to get in a solid twenty minutes of good, uninterrupted work. He was in the zone, blowing through the stack of paperwork on his desk, his reading glasses slipping down the plane of his nose. It was short-lived however, because suddenly a pair of hands came around Renjun’s eyes and an obnoxious, yet very familiar, voice was calling out “Guess whoooo.”

Renjun rolled his eyes, hoping Donghyuck could feel the movement under his palms. “What do you want?” 

“Is it really true you’re up for a promotion?” The hands disappeared, and Donghyuck’s face was mere inches from his, the tips of their noses almost touching. Renjun reeled back in both surprise and disgust. 

“What’s it to you?” Renjun asked cryptically, knowing very well that this answer would only egg Donghyuck on. 

“Gee, maybe it’s because you’re my best friend or something. Don’t you think I deserve to know these things?” 

“I’d hardly call you my best friend.”

“What would you call me, then?” Donghyuck crossed his arms. “Your closest work colleague? Your fellow task force member? Coolest special agent you’ve ever known?” 

“How about ‘office pest?’” Renjun pushed Donghyuck’s face away with the palm of his hand. He turned back to his computer, hoping Donghyuck would go away if he was cold enough. Unfortunately, this was not enough to deter him. 

“You seem to forget all those times I’ve covered your ass, Huang.” Donghyuck crossed his arms over his chest. “Remember Arizona?” 

“We don’t talk about that.” Renjun’s grip tightened on his pen, knuckles turning white. 

“A whole fleet, Renjun.” He tsked. “Can’t believe _you’re_ getting the promotion after that fiasco.”

“Shut up,” Renjun hissed. “Someone could hear.”

“What are they gonna do? Create another outlandish conspiracy theory and--” Renjun slapped his hand over Donghyuck’s mouth and mustered the most malevolent glare he could. 

“Don’t say the c-word.” 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

At 11:30, Renjun was standing outside Mark Lee’s door. He had gone to the bathroom before coming there, smoothing down his hair in the mirror and saying a few positive words of affirmation to his reflection. 

He panickedly realized he’d forgotten to check his breath before he’d left, but it was too late, because the heavy wooden door to Mark’s office opened, and his doofy, smiling face peeked through the crack in the door. Renjun gulped. 

It wasn’t a secret he’d fostered somewhat of a… puppy love for his superior ever since he’d been assigned to the Classified Terrorism Task Force. He wasn’t very good at hiding it 

“Good afternoon Agent Huang.” Mark pushed his glasses up his nose - they were always sliding down - and gestured for Renjun to come in. He bowed his head a little in greeting before sitting in the chair in front of Mark’s desk. 

While Mark sifted through a pile of papers on his desk, he wiped his palms on his pants, biting his tongue and hoping his cheeks weren’t flushed. 

“I bet the news has gotten around to you, huh?” Mark straightened out one of the trinkets on his desk, a glass pyramid paperweight. 

“What news?” Renjun asked innocently, but underneath the table his hands had curled around the edge of his chair and he was gritting his teeth in excitement. He’d been working on the same task force for two years, working his ass off both in the field and in his cubicle. He was ready for the next step, and he was glad his superiors had finally realized that. 

“I’m sending you on a road trip. Have you ever been to Florida?” 

Renjun’s heart sank down into his butt. “A road trip?” He asked, voice coming out slightly strangled. 

Mark seemed to misconstrue this reaction for unadulterated joy. “We’ve set aside the shiniest car for you, so you’ll ride in style. It’s an easy mission and you’ll practically be on vacation. We’ve even budgeted an extra day for you in Florida. You can visit Disneyworld or something. I almost wish I could go with you!” Mark fiddled with another knickknack on his desk (a small wooden bird, this time). 

“What exactly is the mission?” Renjun asked weakly. 

“We need you to track someone down.” He slid a file across the desk. “Well, we just need you to wrangle him into the car and bring him to headquarters.”

Renjun took the folder and opened it. Usually, it was easy to guess who would be on the inside of these reports. Ungroomed middle-aged men with sunken eyes and scraggly hair. Much to Renjun’s surprise, the boy pictured in the report was… a _boy._ He was smiling with heart-shaped lips, shaggy hair falling over his eyes and a flannel hanging off his lanky frame. He traced his eyes over the information laid out. 

_Brown eyes… black hair… twenty years old… Park, Jisung…_

“He’s a kid.” 

“Yes, a very dangerous kid.”

“He doesn’t look dangerous.”

“He’s a hacker. One of the best we’ve ever seen.” Mark leaned back in his chair, looking slightly troubled. “He’s stuck his nose into places he shouldn’t have.”

Renjun stayed mum. “Did he get into our records?” 

“Almost.” Mark rubbed his hands over his face. “Nearly got me into a world of hurt. Luckily we detected the breach before he could get into the classified files.” 

“What are you going to do with him?”

“The kid’s a genius; we want to offer him a place here at the FBI. If he’s willing to cooperate.”

“And if he’s not?” 

“Then he’ll rot in jail. He’s too much of a threat.” 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

The drive from Virginia to Florida was long. And hot. And… quiet. 

Renjun was used to a packed car. Donghyuck was usually loudly snacking in the passenger seat, Jaemin napping in the back, and Jeno bobbing his head to whatever music was playing over the radio. 

Instead, the lonely, cream-colored folder was laying on the passenger seat, fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open window. Mark hadn’t given him much information about Jisung Park. He seemed like a kid down on his luck. A high school dropout with a deceased mother. His father was alive, but he lived in an entirely different area of Florida. He was likely not in the picture. The location Mark had given him was a Super8 motel located on the outskirts of Florida City. There were train tracks nearby, and a train came every day at both 3:00am and 5:00pm. 

He had no reason to think the boy would be dangerous, but the thought of doing a solo mission still made his skin crawl. There was no cover. No one to have his back in case things went awry. Donghyuck’s annoying chewing suddenly didn’t seem so bothersome. 

He arrived in Florida at 6:00pm. Perfect timing. 

Renjun never went into a job without a plan. That was just who he was. The plan-man. As self-absorbed as it sounds, he wasn’t sure how their team could’ve done anything without him. Mark was a good leader, sure, but Renjun had an attention to detail that was unmatched by any agent in his field. He was meticulous, had every mission planned down to the minute. Renjun was anything but messy. 

He sat outside the Super8 motel. He always kept several sudoku books in the glove compartment for this very reason. If Donghyuck was with him, he’d be whining and complaining about how this was the worst part of the job. The waiting game. But Renjun disagreed. He liked the buildup, the slow rush of adrenaline as he watched the clock tick closer to 3:00am. Thirty-eight sudoku puzzles later, Renjun could hear the distant sound of a train whistle, faint but there. 

Jisung Park’s light was still on, but that didn’t matter much. Renjun rested his hand on his gun holster, feeling the cold metal handle. He’d never had to use it before, and he hoped he never would. He exited the car, not bothering to shut the door quietly because the noise from the train drowned out everything else. He approached the door, room number 51, with the numbers hanging slightly askew. Renjun pressed his ear to the door, but heard nothing. 

He took a deep breath, forcing the fluttering fear in his heart all the way down to his shoes, where he could barely feel it. He knocked three times. Loudly and concisely. Just as he had planned. 

He heard some grumbling from behind the door before it opened just a crack, just the tiniest sliver of yellow light, and an eye. A very round, inquisitive eye. “Who are you?” 

Renjun pulled out his badge and showed it to Jisung. “Special Agent Renjun Huang. Are you Jisung Park?”

“No.” His pupil dilated. Eyes shifted behind him, likely for an escape. The slight tremor in his voice. _Liar._

“I’m going to need you to open the door, and put your hands where I can see them. You’ll be in no trouble if you do as I say.” 

The door opened wider, and Renjun’s hand remained on his hip, thumbing the hilt of his weapon from over his shirt. Adrenaline buzzed under his skin, but he stayed calm. One of the hardest parts of being an agent was ignoring the fight or flight reaction. They couldn’t afford to be irrational, to act on baseless whims rather than logic. They ran headfirst into danger on a daily basis, and Renjun couldn’t be sure what would lie behind that motel door. 

It creaked open, and Renjun could feel his heart beating against his temple. Jisung Park stood in the doorway with his hands in the air and eyes wide. There was something sort of mousy about him, skinny and boyish and shaggy. Renjun looked behind him, doing a quick scan of the room. There didn’t appear to be any other people. There was only one bed, and it was covered in food wrappers surrounding a clunky-looking laptop. 

“I didn’t do anything,” the boy said, voice thin and squeaky with nervousness. “You have the wrong person, I’ve done nothing wrong!” 

“Is that so?” Renjun shut the door behind him, taking slow steps around the room. He grimaced when he stepped on something soft. When he lifted his foot he discovered that it was a half-eaten hamburger. He cringed when he noticed the little splurge of ketchup sticking to the sole of his shoe. He walked over to the bed and picked up the computer, weighing it in his hands. There was no brand logo to be found, and it was a scraggly little thing. Clearly not a commercial device. “Did you make this yourself?” It didn’t really matter. No matter what kind of computer Jisung used, he still hacked into classified government files. But still, Renjun couldn’t help but feel curious. The boy trembling in the corner hardly seemed like the kind of mastermind that would be capable of such things. 

“Yes. Yes, I built it,” Jisung said softly. He was shrinking back against the door, but made no move to open it and escape. “Listen, I wasn’t planning on leaking the information. I don’t have any ulterior motive. I was just--”

“So you know why I’m here,” Renjun said shortly. He held Jisung’s gaze and it made him feel like a father scolding his son. “We have an offer for you, Jisung Park. Your talents are impressive, and we could use someone like you on our team.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“You know too much. You’ll be put away for the rest of your life,” He replied dully. “Listen, kid. It’s in your best interest to come with me back to headquarters. Clearly you have a talent, and at the FBI we’ll give you a chance to use it. Fresh start.”

“Oh, so I can help you track down more people like me? So I can help you put truth-seekers in jail?” He asked defiantly, but Renjun knew he was all bark and no bite. He was just a scared little boy, lashing out as he was backed into a corner. 

“Truth-seekers?” Renjun laughed. “So you’re a conspiracy theorist, hm?”

The boy looked down at his feet, glaring at his beat-up sneakers. His hair was greasy, and his baggy jeans had holes in the knees. He wore a ratty-looking sweater that likely did little to stave off the cold. Renjun paused, wondering what a boy so young was doing alone in a motel with nothing but a computer and the clothes on his back. 

“I'm kind of tired from the drive,” Renjun said coolly. “You don’t mind if I take a shower here, do you?” He opened the door to the bathroom, flipping on the lights, which only dimly illuminated the room. The tile floor was grubby, and he could have sworn he’d seen a cockroach scuttling behind the toilet, back into the shadows. 

He turned back to look at Jisung, who was still cowering by the door. “If you want to?” 

“Thanks,” He said cheekily. He closed the door and turned on the shower before pressing his ear to the door. He listened for it: the slam of the door, the sound of footsteps running away from the motel, potentially the sound of a car starting. But it never came. Just as Renjun expected.

Jisung Park had nowhere to go. 

He did freshen up a little bit. He found a small bar of soap (used down to a tiny nub) and used it to wash his hands and face. He sorted his hair in the mirror, slicking it back so that it laid perfectly down on his head. Renjun was a professional, and he would not let his dignity be tainted by a cowlick. 

When he came back into the bedroom, Jisung was laying on the trash-covered bed, staring up at the ceiling like a man who’s lost all hope. Renjun sort of pitied him, but he had a job to do, and sympathizing with his captive hadn’t been worked into his schedule. 

“Let’s go,” he said, holding a hand out for Jisung to take. “We’re going on a road trip, kid.” 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~ 

Jisung was a quiet boy, that much was evident. Renjun had asked him if he wanted to listen to music, and Jisung had only replied with a noncommittal shrug. When he asked him if he wanted to stop and get some sleep, he’d met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shook his head. It made Renjun feel slightly… unsettled, to say the least. He was really doing Jisung a favor by taking him away from that sad, dingy motel room. That was no place for a boy as young as he was. 

They drove until morning, in almost total silence. Renjun could hear anytime Jisung so much as breathed, and it was starting to make him feel antsy. He’d had all kinds of criminals in the back of his car, but they’d never been young, lonely boys. A young, lonely boy that Renjun just can’t seem to _figure out._

“What were you doing there?” Renjun asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. “A kid like you… shouldn’t he be living with his parents? Or on a college campus somewhere?” 

“I don’t have parents,” Jisung snapped. Well, at least he’d gotten a response. 

“That’s not true,” Renjun replied sternly. “I’ve read your file. You have a living father.” 

“Why’d you ask me, then?” Jisung asked, clearly annoyed at being reprimanded. “If you have your all-knowing _file_.” 

“Because there was nothing in my ‘all-knowing file’ that could have explained why you would be alone in a motel room, alone, in one of the most dangerous areas of Florida City.” 

“Well if it wasn’t in your file, then it must not be very important for your mission,” Jisung said, with an air of finality and arrogance that almost startled him. That’s when Renjun was reminded that Jisung was not just a scared little boy that he was toting around in the back of his car. He was a technological mastermind, a hacker good enough to make the FBI see past his lawbreaking just to have his expertise on their side. Jisung… was potentially _dangerous._ Renjun knew to be wary of people with too much intellect than they knew what to do with (Donghyuck Lee, for example). 

But the image of Jisung sitting alone on the bed, head hung low and waiting for Renjun to come out of the bathroom, stuck in his mind. He was smart, that much was undeniable. But he was also a boy with nothing left to lose. 

“Are you hungry?” Renjun asked, glancing in the rearview mirror to see Jisung leaning his head against the window. His eyes shifted, and when they met eyes, Renjun turned back to the road. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

Renjun hadn’t been expecting him to say yes. “Any requests?” 

“McDonald's?” Jisung asked, voice sounding slightly hopeful. 

“You’re not sick of it?” He recalled the piles of wrappers on the floor of Jisung’s motel room. 

“No.” 

“Okay. McDonald's it is.” 

Renjun spotted a truck stop ahead with a big red and yellow McDonalds sign, illuminated so you could see the grime from a mile away. It was early in the morning, only 5:00. The sun hadn’t crested the horizon yet, but the sky was starting to turn from a pitch black to midnight blue. Renjun flicked on his turn indicator, the steady clicking making his eyes feel heavier. He took a deep breath, ignoring his sleepiness. He had a job to do. 

When they walked into the McDonald’s, Renjun realized he hadn’t stepped foot in one in years. Not since his college days, when his law study group would meet the day before an exam and study ‘til morning, an ever-flowing tap of french fries only a few feet away. He straightened his suit, checking the shine on his shoes and smoothing down his hair. 

Jisung was already ordering at the counter, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. Renjun wrinkled his nose at the menu options. Normally for breakfast he had a cup of coffee and _maybe_ a bowl of plain oatmeal (sometimes with a drizzle of honey on special occasions). 

Jisung turned towards him. “Aren’t you getting something?” 

He shook his head. “No. How much?” He asked the cashier, fishing out his wallet to pay. 

“That’ll be…” The tired teenager checks the register. “14 dollars and 63 cents.” 

Renjun had to stop himself from scoffing in surprise. He cleared his throat as he passed over the money. He sat across from Jisung at one of the tables, grimacing at the crusted-on ketchup on the surface. 

“Are you not hungry?” Jisung asked as he fiddled with a sugar packet. He had huge hands, and Renjun caught himself marvelling at them for a moment. 

“No. The food here is much too greasy for my taste.” 

"Of course.” Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” The sugar packet split and little crystals scattered across the table. 

“Here’s your food.” The lone employee slammed a tray down on the table as Jisung looked on in delight. He dug in immediately, grabbing the closest mystery item and unwrapping it like a man who hadn’t eaten in days. It looked like a hamburger, and Jisung wolfed it down in three bites. Renjun knew because he’d counted. He wasn’t going to say anything else for fear of making himself seem arrogant and unprofessional, but Jisung proceeded to unwrap two more hamburgers and eat them in the same manner. He watched as he shoved a handful of french fries into his mouth before sucking the contents of a whole ketchup packet into his mouth. The way he ate reminded Renjun of a feral raccoon digging through a trash can. 

“Jisung, slow down,” he said before he could stop himself. “You’re going to make yourself sick.” 

“And?” He replied despondently, although his voice was greatly muffled by the food shoved into the pockets of his cheeks. Renjun revised the raccoon metaphor in his head. Jisung looked like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. 

_“And_ I don’t want you to throw up all over the seats of the car.” 

“What a tragedy that would be.” Jisung snorted. “Are, um-- Are you sure you don’t want something?” Jisung looked at him with these funny little puppy eyes that he’s sure have helped him with surviving on his own. He’s not easy to say no to. 

“I guess a few fries couldn’t hurt.” He mustered up a smile, although he regretted it when he saw Jisung cringe at the stiffness of his niceties. He reached out and took a few french fries, chewing on them thoughtfully as he looked out the window, too fraught with embarrassment to look at Jisung any longer. 

The sun was rising, and the sky turned pink and orange with its glow. He could see clouds in the distance. Dark ones. Renjun wondered if one of those famous Florida storms was rolling in. Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him out of his reverie. He fished the phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. His eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Hello, Agent Lee.” He got up and moved towards the bathrooms, so Jisung wouldn’t be able to hear. He sent him a stern look and a gesture that vaguely meant ‘stay put’ before closing the door behind him. 

“You know you can call me Mark, Renjun,” he responded coolly. Renjun had to stop himself from swooning. 

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Are there any updates for the mission, Mark?” 

“Unfortunately,” his voice crackled through the speaker. The internet at the McDonald’s was frustratingly slow. “I need you to make a quick stop on your way back. We’ve had another one.”

Renjun’s heart skipped a beat. “You want me to tackle a classified case… alone?” 

“It’s nothing you can’t handle. A small town in South Carolina. There are only a few witnesses, and we just need you to confiscate the reports. Run-of-the-mill stuff.” Mark paused. “Unless… you don’t think you’ll be able to do it alone?”

“No,” Renjun said quickly. “Of course I can. Send me the details and I’ll take care of it.” 

“Doing it right now. Let me know if there are any complications and we can get the team out there, okay?” 

“I’m sure there’ll be no need.” Renjun felt his chest swell with duty. “I won’t let you down, Agent Lee.”

“Mark,” he corrected. 

“Mark.” Renjun smiled. The silence lingered long enough that it felt awkward, so he mumbled out a quick “Gotta go” and hung up the phone. 

When he left the bathroom, Jisung was cleaning up, even trying to take on the futile task of rubbing the ketchup stains off the table. “We need to get back on the road soon.” Renjun checked his watch. 6:00AM. 

“I saved you a hamburger.” 

“What?” He asked as he looked up from his watch. 

“I saved you a hamburger.”

“You can eat it. I’m not hungry.” 

“You barely ate anything, you should at least take it for later,” Jisung argued. Renjun gave in and took the hamburger, trying not to grimace when he shoved it into the pocket of his immaculate suit. 

“Happy? Now let’s get going.” He jerked his head towards the door, and Jisung, quite surprisingly, obediently got into the backseat with no complaint. And when Renjun asked if he wanted to listen to any music, he agreed. 

It was almost annoying how Jisung rattled off about how he didn’t like this artist or that one, but Renjun preferred it to his silent indifference. He was a strange boy, that was for sure, but Renjun had concluded that, beyond any doubt, Jisung was not dangerous. 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

Renjun wasn’t sure what to expect from Bellefleur, South Carolina. They arrived in the evening, after eleven straight hours of driving, and Renjun felt like he was on the verge of collapse. Jisung sat in the back seat, asleep with drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. The hamburger that he’d saved for Renjun laid half-eaten in his limp hand. 

Bellefleur was a quiet little logging town. There was only one small grocery store, a barber shop, a diner-slash-bed-and-breakfast, an old boutique, and the saw mill. Renjun had been around the US, working out of the hearts of the biggest cities and in the quietest little suburbs. But Bellefleur might be the sleepiest little town he’d ever seen. 

The gravel roads crunched loudly under the tires of the car, and every once in a while a pebble kicked up and hit the surface of the car. Renjun grimaced each time, hoping any damages to the car wouldn’t come out of his paycheck. As he drove by a line of houses, the lights flickered on, one by one. Curtains opened, watchful eyes peeking out of the cracks before they’d snapped shut again. 

He pulled in front of the bed and breakfast, which had been Mark’s suggestion for lodging in his brief about the town of Bellefleur. It was called The Great Northern, a slightly ironic name for a town in South Carolina. He was bone-tired, and they needed a place to stay for the night. He could go out seeking the police station in the morning. 

“Hey, kid.” He turned around and shook Jisung awake. “We’re resting here for the night.” He blinked a few times in response, shaking off the sleepiness and getting his bearings. He reached up to rub his eyes and looked very surprised to discover there was a hamburger in his hand. Renjun bit back a laugh. 

“Where are we?” He asked, voice gravelly and rough. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he responded gruffly. One of Renjun’s very few vices was that when he got sleepy, he became _very_ grumpy. Donghyuck liked to tease him about this _relentlessly_ on stakeouts. 

Jisung didn’t argue with him, just followed him out of the car and into the bed and breakfast. The bottom floor looked like a normal restaurant, with a quiet crowd of diners sitting in shiny red booths. All chatter ceased when they walked through the door. Renjun heard the jarring sound of a fork clattering onto a plate. After that, all that was heard was the quiet whispers of the inhabitants. Most of them were old folk, men with thick, white moustaches and women with their hair in tight curls (a style that hasn’t been _in_ since the 90s). They all sat with backs straight and eyes trained on the newcomers as they walked inside. 

Renjun tried to offer a smile and a slight nod, attempting to soothe the nerves of the townsfolk. They clearly weren’t used to welcoming strangers. It was understandable, really. Bellefleur was miles off the beaten trail. They’d had to travel on harsh gravel roads, through a borderline treacherous mountain pass with roads so twisty Renjun was worried about throwing up. 

So, it probably wasn’t very often that people simply _passed through_ Bellefleur. 

“Good evening.” Renjun walked up to the woman at the counter, a plump woman in a yellow apron who was pouring a cup of coffee. She wore a heavy layer of blue eyeshadow on each lid, and she had a strange-looking mole on her neck. One in the shape of a duck. Renjun squinted at her nametag and found that it read _Diane._ “Do you have any vacancies?” 

“How many rooms d’ya need?” She smiled, and her teeth were yellowed and rotting. 

“Two, please.” Renjun fished out his wallet, pulling out his credit card. 

“Oh, dear, we don’t have a scanner here, darlin’,” she said sweetly. “Yer gonna have to pay in cash in Bellefleur.” 

“No problem.” Renjun put the card back in his wallet. “Do you have an ATM?” 

“Not here, no.” She still smiled that same sweet smile. 

“Is there anywhere in town that I can find one?” 

“I don’t think so, honey.” 

Renjun took a deep breath. He could not be rude or grumpy. These people were used to Southern hospitality and he couldn’t break their trust just after walking through the door. 

“How much for one night?” Jisung piped up from behind him. “I have forty dollars.” 

“That’ll getcha one double room and a complimentary breakfast,” Diane said sunnily, her Southern drawl dripping from her words like honey. When Jisung proffered the money, she snatched it out of his hand like a greedy vulture. “You’ll be in room number two.” She slid a key across the counter and pointed vaguely towards a staircase near the back of the diner. 

“Thanks.” 

“And welcome to The Great Northern! Hope you enjoy your stay, boys.”

They trekked up the steep staircase, Renjun carrying his briefcase and Jisung dragging his tired feet. When they got into the room, it felt a little like travelling back in time. There were two twin beds, and they looked like their sheets hadn’t been changed since the 70s. The walls were covered in scenic paintings of a lake surrounded by forest, hung haphazardly around the room. He supposed they were going for an old-timey log cabin feel. Renjun was relieved to see an old phone plugged into the wall. He needed to give Mark a call to update him about the mission, but he hadn’t had cell service since they’d gone over the mountains. 

Renjun heaved his briefcase onto the bed, collapsing on it shortly after. He’d been awake for longer than this, sure, but he’d never get used to some of the physical demands of his work. 

“Aren’t you at least going to take your shoes off?” 

“Mfph,” Renjun groaned into the pillow. It smelled of must and faintly of sawdust. He lifted his head to look at Jisung, his eyes groggy and lids heavy. “That’s real rich coming from you. I saw the state of your motel room. You lived like a pig rolling around in its own filth.” 

“Wow, okay.” Jisung held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t make jokes around stuck-up FBI agents. Noted.” 

“I’m not stuck-up,” Renjun insisted. “I’m just… a professional.”

“A professional?” He snorted. “How old are you, anyways? Whose shoes are you trying to fit into?” 

Renjun inhaled sharply. “That’s none of your business.” He kicked off his shoes and crawled under the covers. The twin bed was tiny. Renjun hoped Jisung’s feet would hang over the edge and get cold. That’s what he deserved for being so tall. 

“You’re just gonna go to sleep? You’re not worried about me running off?” 

“Where would you go?” Renjun asked snarkily. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Fair point.” He heard Jisung sit on the bed, the metal springs creaking under his weight. “You, um. You promise you’re not just going to throw me in jail, right?” He asked shakily. 

Renjun turned around in bed so he could look at Jisung. He was sitting on the bed with his back hunched, hair so long that it fell almost to the bridge of his nose. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his worn-out jeans. 

“If you cooperate, everything should be fine,” Renjun answered plainly. He wished he could offer something less bleak, more hopeful. But he couldn’t give Jisung false hope. 

“So, what, I have to be a slave to the government for the rest of my life?” Jisung asked distastefully, and Renjun could barely see his nose scrunch in distaste through his bangs. Renjun needed to remain emotionally detached. He was on the job, and Special Agent Huang couldn’t afford to make any emotionally-charged decisions. That’s how you got yourself killed. Or worse, that's how he’d get Jisung killed. 

But, still, he couldn’t resist pushing the boundaries just a little bit. 

“I’m twenty-four,” he said casually, as if he was reporting on the weather or relaying Jisung’s rights to him. 

“That’s… pretty young for an agent in the FBI, isn’t it?” 

“They recruit genius.” Renjun felt himself swell slightly with pride. “I was top of my class. I’m an expert in law and linguistics.” He paused. “That’s why they want you too, you know. They know genius when they see it.” 

“Are you… complimenting me?” 

“Being a hacker as good as you are at age twenty is no small feat either.” He shrugged, although he doubted Jisung could see him. 

“I’m not just a hacker. But thanks.” 

“We need to wake up early tomorrow. Get some rest.” He switched off the lamp and turned to his other side. He buried himself under the covers, but he didn’t sleep. He listened with his eyes closed as Jisung went into the bathroom and showered. As he shucked off his jeans to sleep. As he yawned when his head hit the pillow. Then, finally, Renjun began to drift off to sleep as he heard Jisung snore in the bed beside him. 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

The next morning, Renjun and Jisung travelled by foot. They had gotten directions to the police station from Diane that morning. Strangely enough, the sheriff’s office was connected to the barber shop, which was only a couple blocks from The Great Northern. Renjun guessed a big police station wasn’t justified in such a small, sleepy town. She’d sent them on their way with a crudely drawn map and a sorry excuse for a breakfast (a cup of black coffee for Renjun and a fish sandwich for Jisung). 

“This tastes like I fished it out of a dumpster,” Jisung moaned. He’d already eaten half of it, but Renjun didn’t doubt that it was foul. He could smell it from a few feet away. 

“I think fish is their specialty here. There’s a lake about a mile south of here. Apparently it’s teeming with crappies.” 

Jisung spit his sandwich onto the ground. “Teeming with _what?_ ” 

“Crappies. It’s a type of sunfish.” 

“Oh.” Jisung took another bite (albeit hesitantly). “How do you know all that, anyway?” 

“There was a pamphlet in the drawer.” Renjun took a long swig from the mug in his hand. It was a little lukewarm, but he had to admit that Diane made a damn fine cup of coffee. He sighed in delight. If only he had a little hazelnut creamer, it would be perfect. 

“When did you even have time to read that thing?” 

“This morning. I wake up with the sun.”

“Of course you do.” 

The morning was mild, with only the slightest breeze rustling the treetops. The walk from The Great Northern to the barber shop (slash police station) passed by the old sawmill, and they could hear the high-pitched metallic rumbling of the equipment inside. Jisung jumped a little when a loud clang reverberated through the yard. They could hear the shouts of men and see clouds of sawdust spilling out of the facility like sandy yellow fog. 

“I wonder how often someone cuts off a finger.” Jisung shivered. 

“It’s more likely that they’ll develop severe lung disease from all that dust.”

“You’re just such a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” That ruffled Renjun’s feathers, and he fidgeted with the sleeves of his suit in discomfort. He’d only brought one change of clothes, since he thought this mission would only be a quick trip from point A to point B. They had to hurry up and find these records before he started to smell bad. He doubted the grocery store in Bellefleur would have the specialized kind of detergent he used for his suits. 

“Like I said before, I’m on the job. I don’t have time for pleasantries.” 

“You could at least _try_ to put my nerves at ease.” Jisung chucked the wrapper from his fish sandwich into a bush. “I was just taken from my home by a scary FBI agent man-in-black-style and I have no clue where we are! You said you were taking me back to your headquarters so… why are we here?” 

Renjun chuckled. “Those are fair questions. Listen, kid. I’m just stopping by to take care of some quick business for my superior. After we find this police station, we’ll get back on the road to DC.” 

“Okay… So you’re not going to kill me, chop me to pieces in the sawmill, then throw my remains in the lake for the crappies to eat?” He asked, and Renjun would have thought he was being serious if not for the small, sly smile on his lips. 

“Absolutely not. I think there’s several things in that scenario that would break my oath.” Renjun reached out and ruffled his hair. He regretted it immediately after, when Jisung turned to give him a strange look. Renjun muttered something about him needing a haircut before walking ahead, pulling on the sleeves of his suit. He needed to finish his business in Bellefleur and, even more importantly, finish his business with Jisung. 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

“Wait outside,” Renjun said sternly when they arrived at the police station (slash barber shop). “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you doing in there?” 

“That’s none of your concern.” 

Jisung huffed and sat on the edge of the sidewalk. He tucked his knees under his huge black shirt and rested his chin there. He looked like a child pouting because his mother wouldn’t buy him candy at the store. Renjun was ever-so-slightly endeared. 

When he walked inside the barber shop, he was surprised to find that it was relatively clean. The stools were still shiny and red and each of them was facing a long mirror that stretched across both sides of the store. Renjun thought the number of American flags hanging around (with the odd confederate flag just to switch things up) was mildly distasteful, but he wouldn’t comment. 

“Hey there, son! What can I getcha? A nice shave for that melon ‘o yers?” Renjun instinctively reached for his hair as if to protect it from this man and his clippers. 

“No, sir. I’m looking for the sheriff.” He pulled out his badge and presented it. “Special Agent Huang, FBI.” 

“You--” The barber choked on his words for a moment. “What’re you doin’ here in Bellefleur?”

“I’m afraid that is classified information.” Renjun smiled, doing his best to be charming. One important thing he learned in his time in the field: regular folk are not so receptive to the ‘big tough FBI agent’ shtick. 

“Well, Sheriff Dunby is just in his office,” he said nervously, pointing to a door at the back of the shop. 

“Wonderful.” Renjun strode across the room towards the door, but when he laid his hand on the handle, he turned back around to the man and said, “And thank you for your service today. God bless America.” He could see the man visibly swell with pride, and he saluted Renjun before he went through the door. 

The room was dark, only illuminated by a dim fluorescent ceiling light and a small desk lamp. It also smelled heavily of smoke, and just from a quick scan of the room, Renjun spotted five full ashtrays scattered around the room. He couldn’t see Sheriff Dunby, but a thin line of smoke trailed out of a cigarette butt in the ashtray on the desk. He’d been there recently. 

Renjun paced around the room, examining the papers on Sheriff Dunby’s desk. They were pages of crosswords (with many of the lines scribbled out in frustration). When he powered on his computer, it was password-protected. He sighed, moving onto the file cabinets lining the wall opposite the door. There weren’t many of them. It likely wasn’t very often that they had conflict in Bellefleur. 

“Can I help you?” A rough voice asked behind him. A man with an enormous potbelly and a thick, bristly moustache stood in the doorway, hands on his hips and a gold badge attached to his belt, glinting in the dim light of the office. Renjun didn’t miss the gun holster sitting snug on his right hip. 

“Sheriff Dunby?” The man nodded brusquely. “I’m Special Agent Renjun Huang from the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I’m here to investigate reports of strange happenings in your town.” 

“Strange happenings?” He laughed a hearty laugh. “Nothing strange happens in Bellefleur.” 

“I’d like to see a record of your police reports.” 

“Feel free.” He gestured towards the file cabinets. “I think you’ll find a lot of reports of drunk people doing their stupid shenanigans on Crosswell Lake.” He snorted and sat down at his desk

Renjun opened the nearest file cabinet and began to sift through the reports. The ones he was looking for would be recent. Within the past few days. He found the file from three nights ago. There was nothing in it other than a noise complaint. Apparently the saws at the old mill had been running after hours, and the neighbors hadn’t been happy. Strange. But not strange enough. 

The next night, there were three reports. Each one was very familiar to Renjun. Flashing lights. Odd sounds. Dead cattle. Fear. 

Three reports weren't bad. Three reports were completely manageable. “I think I’ve got what I needed, Officer,” Renjun said cheerily. “Thanks so much for your help. I’ll put in a good word for you at the DC headquarters.”

“Hold it.” He put a hand on his chest, and Renjun’s heart rate skyrocketed. He trained his eyes on Sheriff Dunby’s gun. “Why do you need those reports, anyways?” 

“That’s classified FBI business.” Renjun gave him a tight smile before pushing his hand away from his chest. “I do thank you for your cooperation.”

“You realize those reports are complete hogwash, dontcha?” He asked, scratching the underside of his great belly, which hung out from his untucked shirt. “Jus’ a couple people who don’ know what they’ve seen, ya know? Real deadbeat folk.” 

“Deadbeat folk?” Renjun asked curiously. 

“Called late the other night. A couple ‘o pranksters and the old kook over yonder.” He gestured to the forest, where Renjun knew the lake was. “That radio jockey got everyone all riled up, but I can assure you if there had been anything goin’ on, I woulda been the first to know.”

“Is that so?” Renjun tucked the reports under his arm. “Tell me more about this radio jockey.” 

“He’s just a good-for-nothin’ shit-stirrer. Always spreading all kinds of ridiculous bullshit.” He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his desk, offering one to Renjun (to which he shook his head no) before lighting one up. He wrinkled his nose at the smell; they brought back bad memories. Sheriff Dunby looked at him thoughtfully. “Why’s the FBI so interested in these reports, anyways?” He took a long drag. “You’re not… tryna cover somethin’ up, are ya?” 

“Nothing of the sort.” Renjun smiled. “This is routine business. When we get reports of strange activities in our skies, we like to follow up just in case.”

“Is that so?” He sucked on the cigarette like he was drinking a milkshake through a straw. Renjun watched as it glimmered down into a tiny nub, before he snuffed it out in the ashtray. He also noted how he stood in between him and the door. His only exit was blocked. “Then I suppose you can just take a few pictures of these reports with that handy cell phone and leave the hard copies with me.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “Unless… You’re trying to cover something up.” 

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” Renjun said innocently, “but if you don’t let me take these documents, I can charge you for obstructing justice, and your puny little job as a small town police officer?” Renjun leaned in, voice low. “You can kiss it goodbye.” 

“Are you threatening me?” He puffed up his chest, trying to make himself look all big. Renjun was not intimidated in the least. 

“I’ll be leaving now, Sheriff Dunby. Before you do something that you’ll regret.” He knocked their shoulders together as he passed, and an aggravated growl followed him out the door. 

When he left the dingy back room, Renjun was met with a sight he hadn’t been expecting. Jisung was sitting on one of the shiny red chairs, getting a haircut and laughing with the barber. A dark pile of hair laid on the ground and Renjun could actually see Jisung’s eyes for once. They were all scrunched up as he laughed. It was kinda cute. Renjun felt his heart do a little flip in his chest. 

“If you don’t calm down, I might clip yer ear, ya little rascal!” The barber exclaimed joyfully. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay outside?” Renjun asked, but it held no malice. Jisung looked sheepish. “I’m glad you’re getting a haircut. You looked like a perpetually wet dog. It was sad.” 

“You’re so mean.” He rolled his eyes, but Renjun caught him smiling at his reflection in the mirror, and he was happy to see him happy. Something told him Jisung hadn’t truly smiled in a long time. “It looks pretty good, doesn’t it?” 

“Do you have a card reader? I don’t have any cash on me,” Renjun asked awkwardly, knowing well that the answer would be no. 

“No, but it’s on me. I saw this young man sittin’ in front of my shop with a bird’s nest on his head, bless his heart, and I just couldn’t let ‘im go on like that. It’s jus’ my duty as a barber.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” Renjun said. “Thank you.”

"Well, yes, of course. Anything I can do to serve my country!" He spun Jisung around in the chair, proudly presenting his handiwork to Renjun. He didn't have time to appreciate it, though. His mind was preoccupied with something Sheriff Dunby had said. "If there's anything else I can do to help jus’ holler."

"There is something, actually," Renjun said, and Jisung looked at him inquisitively as he hopped out of the barber's chair. "Do you know where the radio broadcasting station is? We've got business there."

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

"I thought you said we were leaving after we went to the police station," Jisung whined. He kept reaching up and fiddling with the ends of his hair. They were soft and freshly-cut. He looked nice with his hair out of his face. Renjun could actually see his face properly, and he was a handsome boy. He had a small nose and dark eyes and plump little cheeks. He had the urge to reach out a finger and poke one of them, right under his cheekbone (which happened to be very prominent) to feel the pliant elasticity of his skin. Then Renjun realized that these thoughts were extremely creepy and he buried them deep, deep down.

"One more stop." They were back in the car. The radio broadcasting station was a few miles north of Bellefleur, higher up on the mountain. There was the slightest dusting of snow on the ground as they trekked up the steep slope. It made Renjun feel the slightest bit nervous. When he peered out the side window, he could see the long drop down, thick forest and fog preventing him from seeing the ground below. He could tell that Jisung was nervous, too. When he looked in the rearview mirror, he was pressed to the other side of the car, looking up at the ceiling as if to distract himself from the steep drop. Renjun didn't blame him. Even the slightest gust of wind seemed like it would be enough to send them teetering over the edge. He tried to seem calm though, if only to make Jisung feel more at ease.

"We're just running a quick errand before we get back on the highway. It won't take long." Renjun tried to turn on the radio, but all they got was static. It was cloudy out, and even though the sun should be high in the sky, it was dark up in the mountains, where the trees loomed oppressively over the road. "You'll stay in the car. Once we get back to civilization... we'll find a nice place to eat and get some real food, okay?" Renjun remembered the foul fish sandwich that Jisung had eaten for breakfast, and he felt a pitying ache in his chest.

"Really?" Jisung seemed to perk up at that. If there was one thing Renjun had learned about him in their short time knowing each other, it was that Jisung was highly motivated by food.

"Sure. Anything you're craving." Renjun caught Jisung's eyes in the rearview mirror, and he found that he was smiling. "You know, we should really get you a change of clothes while we're at it."

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Jisung asked petulantly. Renjun didn't dignify this question with a response. He guessed that Jisung’s ragged clothes came from a second-hand store. His dark jeans were ripped in places they definitely weren't meant to be, and his shirt hung off his body like a potato sack. He'd had a hooded sweatshirt that wasn't half bad, but he'd left it in the room at The Great Northern because he felt it was 'too heavy.' Renjun thought he just had a strange aversion to clothes that actually fit him.

"Nothing's wrong with your clothes," he sighed. Then, when they rounded a particularly sharp bend, something came into view. It was a small grey building, and right next to it was the huge radio tower, so spindly that it practically disappeared into the surrounding fog. Renjun hit the brakes, suddenly pulling over to the side of the road. The parking area was gated, and they didn't have a key. Luckily, Renjun's extensive FBI training had taught him how to improvise.

"It looks like it's locked, should we wait-- Renjun, where are you going?"

Renjun slammed the car door shut, hoping Jisung got the message. But just in case he didn't, he turned around and mouthed 'stay put.' The fence was chainlink, tall enough that it wouldn’t be a pretty fall from the top. He curled his fingers around it, pulling himself up. He'd scaled many fences before, but he really hoped this wouldn't scuff up his shoes. He climbed to the top, swinging his leg over. He caught a glimpse of Jisung's awestruck face in the car, so he jumped down all the way from the top just to prove a point. He didn't know why he'd wanted to impress Jisung, but the satisfaction it brought him made the painful landing worth it.

The broadcasting station wasn't very well protected. The gate only kept him out for a minute or two, and when he reached the door he found that four numbers on the keypad were particularly worn down. The numbers 8, 9, 3, and 0 were all beginning to rub off. Renjun guessed it was a birthday, punching in the numbers 0, 3, 8, and 9 (if he had to guess, this mysterious radio jockey wasn't young enough to be born in '03 or '98) and delighting in the wondrous beep of clearance that he got in return. He refrained from doing a little victory dance, lest Jisung was watching him from the car or there were security cameras to catch him in the act.

The first thing Renjun noticed when he entered the station was the smell. It smelled horrible. Like old socks and cigarettes and rotting junk food and the sickening amalgamation of all of the above. He held his arm over his nose, breathing in the calming (and very expensive) scent of his cologne.

The setup was old school. Renjun hadn't seen a lot of this equipment for years. It was almost completely foreign to him. There were no fancy switchboards or screens. There were a few clunky pieces of equipment on an old wooden table, hooked up to a recording mechanism on the side. Laying on the table was one of these tapes, neatly labeled in blocky handwriting _'March 13 (Doomsday).'_ Renjun took the tape out of its sleeve, fitting it into the recorder (which looked something like a huge tape player) and pressing play.

After a few moments of wheezing and whirring, the tape began to spin in the recorder, and Renjun heard the cheery voice of the radio host begin to play through the speakers.

_"Good not-evening folks! We're not usually live so late into the night, but the station has been inundated with calls regarding strange lights in the sky. That's right, you heard it folks, lights in the sky! And I don't mean the stars. We have a few callers standing by to tell their truly haunting stories, so stay tuned, good people of South Carolina."_

Renjun's heart pounded in his chest. Perhaps the incident in Bellefleur was a lot less contained than they'd previously thought.

_"Hello, first caller! You saw these so-called lights?"_

_"Yessir."_ A gruff voice said through the phone.

_"Tell me more. Are you sure it wasn't just a plane? Shooting stars?"_

_"Lemme tell you, sir. I served in the air force for ten years 'o my life, and I ain't never seen anything like it."_

_"How would you describe what you saw?"_

_"Maybe I sound like a madman, but it was a craft. Moved like nothin' I've ever seen before. Like it weighed nothin' at all."_

_"A UFO, then?"_

_"I dunno what it was. All I know is that it has no business in the beautiful skies of Bellefleur."_

_"Thank you, sir. We'll be takin' a short break before we move onto the next caller! Stick around to hear more about these mysterious Bellefleur Lights!"_

Renjun slumped into the chair at the desk, stunned. Small towns may have seemed like small potatoes since they had less people than big cities, but news travelled faster in little towns like Bellefleur. The people were close-knit, and when nothing interesting ever happened in your town, even conspiracy theories could make their way to the dining table.

_“Now I understand that this caller saw something strange, too. Where were you when you saw the lights, Ma’am?”_

_"Well we knew somethin' was up because our dogs started barkin' like crazy. We were worried there was a cougar outside, but when we opened up the curtains..."_

_"What'd you see?"_

_"We saw the lights. But I swear they weren't just lights. It was a plane or somethin,' I don't know. All I remember is them blindin' me and suddenly I was asleep in bed three hours later."_

_"You looked into the lights and then it was three hours later?"_

_"It sounds crazy. But yessir."_

_"Remarkable! So did anythin' else happen, Ma'am?"_

_"I dunno. It’s hard to remember… my memory’s kinda fuzzy"_

_"Well if you remember anythin’ don’t hesitate to give us a call! And y’all at home can contact us at 1-900-860-0911. Now we're movin' on ter our final caller of the night! Yer on the air!"_

_"Yes, hello?"_ It was an old man's voice. He sounded haggard, like he’d just seen something horrible. 

_"Hello! You're callin’ about the lights?"_

The man cleared his throat. _"Yessir. Saw 'em with my own two eyes. They don't work so well anymore but... well, I know I ain't senile just yet."_

_"And where did you see these lights?"_

_"Right over my home. I live just outside Crosswell Forest. I watched that thing steal one of my cows. Beautiful heffer."_

_"The lights stole your cow?"_

_"There was this strange blue light, you see. And she was gone. This mornin' I found 'er dead in my field, flies on 'er and everything."_

Renjun leaned forward, on the edge of his seat. 

_"Did ya get any pictures, perchance?"_

_"No, but I got a piece 'o metal that was lodged in Buttercup's ribcage. Doesn't look like anythin' I've ever seen before."_

_"That is fascinating. I'd like to get a look at that! Is there anything else?”_

_“My dog went missin’. She’s a pretty yellow lab, very friendly. If anyone sees ‘er please take ‘er over to Sheriff Dunby’s.”_

_“Prayin’ that you find ‘er soon! Thanks for calling! Well, folks, it sure has been an eventful night in Bellefleur--"_

Suddenly, there was a loud noise at the front entrance, and Renjun was on high alert. There was the squeaky noise of the door being opened, and someone stalking down the hallway towards the broadcasting room. He had to act quickly, and he dove behind a water cooler in the corner for cover. 

"Renjun!" He heard someone call. Jisung. 

He rolled his eyes and got up from his hunched position on the floor. "Jisung, I thought I told you to stay in the--" 

Jisung was not alone. He was being held in a tight headlock by a man (medium build, mid-to-late-thirties, about 6’1) with a gun held to his head. Renjun felt his blood rushing in his ears. He put his hand on his gun, ready to take it out at a moment's notice. 

"Slide it over to me. Slowly," the man said, a deranged look in his eyes, nodding his head to the gun in his holster. Renjun recognized his voice as the radio jockey’s from the recordings. He listened, moving carefully as he unholstered his gun and slid it across the floor. The man stopped it with his foot, kicking it behind him, all the way down the hall. 

"Renjun..." Jisung said, practically whimpering, and Renjun wanted nothing more than to get him out of harm’s way. 

"Let him go." Renjun pulled out his badge. "I'm with the FBI. I'll let this go if you hand Jisung back over to me. You'll be in no trouble."

"I knew you'd show up here," he yelled, and Jisung flinched, a tear slipping from his eye. Renjun could see him shaking, even from across the room. Renjun knew the man wouldn’t shoot. Not if he wasn’t insane. "I knew you'd come eventually. Well, you can't have it!" 

"Have what?" Renjun asked gently, hands in the air. His eyes were trained on the place where the barrel of the gun met Jisung's skull. He thought that, just _maybe,_ he could will it away. Maybe if he wanted it badly enough, Jisung would be safe. Even though Renjun was taught to be calculating, to be formulaic in his thinking and reasoning, he couldn’t help but rely on a little bit of hope. “Whatever you want… you can have it. He has nothing to do with any of this.” 

“Then why was this little rat standing guard at the door?” He asked, pressing the gun harder into Jisung’s temple. 

“I don’t know.” Renjun gritted his teeth, looking over to a very ashamed-looking Jisung. “I suggest you let him go, though. Unless you want to be in a world of trouble with the FBI, that is. The other members of my task force are driving down from Washington as we speak, and they’re aware of my location. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already coming up the mountain pass.” 

The man seemed to blanch a little at that, his eyes shifting to look behind him, out the tiny window in the front door. Renjun locked eyes with Jisung, widening them, trying to convey what he was thinking. He couldn’t make any large moments, no sounds, lest he attract the attention of the radio jockey. 

Renjun didn’t logically expect Jisung to understand him. He’d only known him for about a day, not to mention the fact that they barely knew each other. The art of nonverbal communication was something that was learned and cultivated as you worked with your task force. But that was something that took time, and Jisung wasn’t trained to think clearly under such intense levels of stress. 

_“Now,”_ Renjun mouthed, desperately clinging onto that little bit of hope. Hanging onto it like grasping the wing of a fly between his fingertips. 

It all happened in a moment. Jisung kicked the man in the shin, hard and sharp, right on the bone. Renjun felt his heart swell with pride. The gun dropped to the floor, and Jisung was quick to pick it up, pointing it at the man with two hands and backing away, across the room towards where Renjun stood. 

He moved a little _too_ quickly and ended up backing straight into Renjun’s chest, which was just as well because it allowed him to take the gun from his shaking, inexperienced hands. 

“Stop right there!” He yelled, running after him. The man was down the hallway, and Renjun’s eyes widened when he realized. The second gun. “Jisung, take cover!” Gunshots went off just as Renjun dove to safety behind the wall. He pressed his back to it, waiting and listening for the gunfire to stop. He was relieved to see that Jisung had tucked himself safely behind a metal file cabinet. Once it was quiet, he leaned around the wall to check if their nameless gunman was still there, only to find that the hallway was empty, and the door was closing behind him. 

Renjun shot up and ran for the door, but by the time he made it outside, into the cold evening air, the car was already driving off, tires screeching against the pavement. He tried to get a look at the license plate, but the darkness of cloudy twilight was too thick to discern the lettering. It was fine, though. He had a beat-up blue Honda Accord. Sheriff Dunby was bound to know who owned that car. 

He holstered his gun, walking back into the broadcasting room, where Jisung was still huddled in the corner. Renjun came and sat next to him on the floor, uncharacteristically uncaring of whether or not he would get dirt on his suit. Jisung had his knees drawn up to his chest, like he did when he’d sat in front of the barber shop. Renjun wasn’t too sure how to comfort him, so he didn’t try. 

“So, what’d you hear?” 

“Lights in the sky? A missing dog? Dead cows?” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling on the ends stressedly. “What is going _on?”_

“I guess there’s no hiding it from you now.” Renjun reached up and grabbed the box of cigarettes sitting on top of the file cabinet. He didn’t smoke, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Do you want one?” He asked, pulling a lighter from the inside pocket of his suit jacket (where he also kept a small lint roller and a mini tub of hair gel). 

“No,” Jisung said petulantly. “I’d rather not abuse my lungs like that.”

“You do realize the sheer volume of junk food that you eat is inevitably going to give you heart disease, right?” Renjun grumbled in response, grimacing after taking a long drag. The last time he’d smoked a cigarette was with Jeno in Arizona. That had been a bad night, but Renjun thought this might’ve been worse. “So I suppose you’re wondering why we’re really here?”

Jisung blinked at him owlishly, his watery eyes shining brightly even in the dim light. “Am I allowed to ask?” 

Renjun chewed his lip. _Probably not,_ he wanted to say. “What do you want to know?” 

“UFOs are real? Forreal?” Jisung’s eyes had lit up, more light and happiness than Renjun had seen since he’d met him. The kind of wonder that he remembered having when he was first assigned to the Classified Terrorism Task Force. The novelty sort of wore off after the second or third mission. After hundreds, Renjun felt almost sick just at the mention of UFOs or aliens. 

“Of course UFOs are real, idiot.” He rolled his eyes, throwing his half-used cigarette onto the floor and crushing it with his shoe. “You didn’t learn in elementary school that an unidentified flying object can mean anything as long as it’s unidentified and flying?” 

“You know what I mean,” Jisung said irritably. “You asked me what I wanted to know. This is what I want to know.”

“Okay, okay.” He sighed. No going back now. “Yes, UFOs exist. Not all of them have any extraterrestrial origin, but… we’ve had several instances where, well, we’re not exactly _sure._ ” 

“The FBI just doesn’t know?” Jisung inquired, an almost smug look on his face. 

“Don’t be like that,” he chastised, reaching over and ruffling Jisung’s hair. “It’s hard to tell sometimes. What we _do_ know is that many of these crafts can maneuver in ways far more advanced than any technology on Earth. And sometimes the sightings of such crafts coincide with… unexplained phenomena.”

“I knew it,” Jisung breathed, barely able to hold in his excitement. His limbs wiggled strangely, his fingers tapping on his knees in unbridled delight. “Aliens _do_ exist. Do you know how many people told me I was crazy? But I _knew it._ ” 

“Don’t get too cocky.” Renjun chuckled. “Area 51 isn’t hiding any aliens. It’s just a storage site for the severed heads of past presidents, waiting to be reanimated when the technology is available.” 

“Seriously?” Jisung’s jaw dropped halfway to the floor, and Renjun laughed. He was ridiculously gullible. It was cute. 

“No. That was a joke.” 

“I didn’t know you were programmed for jokes,” he snarked. 

“I have a lot of them in my system,” Renjun said, deciding to play along. “You know, if you press a button on my pinky toe, I start singing ‘You Belong With Me’ by Taylor Swift.” 

Jisung laughed, doubling over and resting his head on his knees to giggle into the fabric of his jeans. Renjun laughed with him, silly and giddy and very unlike himself. “Renjun?” Jisung asked when they’d stopped laughing. 

“Yeah?”

Jisung looked like he was thinking very hard, the gears in his head grinding as he thought of what he wanted to say. Renjun was almost on the edge of his seat, tilting his head kindly at Jisung, patient. “Nevermind.” 

“You sure?” He got up from his seated position, stretching his arms luxuriously over his head. It was getting late, and they needed to get out of the mountains before the sun set. Jisung didn’t answer, just followed his lead and got up off the floor. Renjun noticed he was still shaking a little bit, just a slight tremble in his hands and legs. He considered hugging him. He remembered the time he had been particularly shaken after a mission and Jaemin had held him in the car on the way back to DC. It had felt nice once he got past the feeling of weakness. 

He ultimately decided against it, opting to reach a hand out and clap it against Jisung’s shoulder like a father would do to his son. He cringed at himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he made a beeline for the door. “Let’s get going, yeah? I saw a gas station on our way here. They probably have an ATM… We’ll get you a proper meal.” 

“Okay,” Jisung agreed hoarsely. 

When they got back to the car, Renjun opened the passenger door for Jisung. He looked slightly bewildered for a moment, but he smiled a tight smile as he ducked inside. Renjun made sure to turn up the heat. He wished he had a blanket to drape over his shoulders. He seemed to be coping well with the shock, but he felt bad. He shouldn't have left him alone. He couldn't help but feel personally responsible.

And as if Jisung was reading his mind, he spoke into the static air, "I'm okay, so you don't need to worry so much."

Renjun glanced at him, turning back to the road quickly, so as not to accidentally drive them off a cliff. He'd been intently looking down at his hands, where he fiddled with his fingers restlessly. "I'm really glad you're okay." He gripped the steering wheel. He couldn't imagine what he would have done if Jisung had gotten hurt. They were miles from any hospital. The image of Jisung bleeding out with his head on his lap was enough to make tears spring to his eyes.

But emotions were uncomfortable, so he fiddled with the radio until he found a station that wasn't pure static. It was a news station, and they were reporting on the weather. Nothing particularly riveting, but Renjun forced himself to tune in with keen ears. He told himself it was pertinent for the success of his mission, but deep down he knew it was just a way to distract himself. From what, he wasn't entirely sure.

Rainclouds were rolling in from the west.

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

They made a quick stop at the dinky little gas station on their way back to Bellefleur. Luckily, there had been an ATM, and Renjun came back to The Great Northern with a wallet full of cash. He'd decided he was going to spoil Jisung a little bit. It was the least he could do, really. After he'd had such a horrific day.

And, boy, when Renjun told him he could order whatever he wanted, Jisung did not hold back. Their table groaned under the weight of hamburgers, chicken pot pies, onion rings, fried chicken, and grits. There was barely enough room for all the plates. Renjun chose a small garden salad (as a special agent, he had to take care of his health) but the leaves of lettuce were all wilted. Not to mention the only lettuce Diane had was shredded iceberg.

So, when Jisung inevitably couldn't finish all the food he'd ordered, Renjun found himself digging into the various dishes laid out on the table, the sad excuse for a salad going untouched. He moaned when he took a bite out of the fried chicken. Everything he'd tried at The Great Northern had been downright foul (minus the coffee), but it was easily the best fried chicken he'd ever had. He lost himself in it a little bit, sucking the grease off the bones like he used to when he was a college student.

He'd traded his room temperature water with lemon for one of Jisung's milkshakes. A big chocolate one in a tall, frosty glass with a red curly straw. Renjun took the glossy-red maraschino cherry, sinking into the bed of whipped cream, and brought it to his mouth. "Jisung, do you wanna see a party trick I learned in college?"

"Sure," he mumbled arduously through a mouthful of onion rings.

Renjun sucked the cherry off the stem, only barely chewing it before swallowing. Maraschinos had always been too sickly sweet for his taste. Then, he took the stem and popped it into his mouth. Jisung looked on with curious eyes as Renjun worked the stem around his mouth, face scrunching up funnily as he moved it around his mouth. Then, Renjun's face lit up happily and he stuck his tongue out, the cherry stem tied into a tight knot on its tip. He spit it out into a napkin.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Jisung asked, the food he'd been eating tucked into the pocket of his cheek as he stared starry-eyed at Renjun.

He shrugged. "I used to drink a lot of cocktails in college. Sort of picked it up."

"So you had some wild college days?" Jisung finally swallowed the food he'd been hoarding in his cheek like a squirrel.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He teased.

Renjun wondered if Jisung's milkshake had been spiked, because a peculiar flush remained on his cheeks, even after they'd gotten up to their room and tucked themselves into bed. Renjun felt suddenly grateful to hear the sound of Jisung's soft snores as he fell asleep. At least he was breathing. At least he was still there, in the bed beside him.

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

When Renjun woke that morning, it was still dark out. This was just as well, because he had a plan. He retrieved the pen that he always kept in his jacket pocket and ripped a page out of the brochure about Bellefleur, writing a quick note and attaching enough money for Jisung to get a decent breakfast and lunch. He went to the bathroom, tip-toeing and being careful not to drop the slippery shampoo bottle in the shower. In his experience, Jisung was an exceptionally deep sleeper, so he wasn't too worried about waking him up, but that didn't stop him from being cautious.

However, he quickly discovered that his fears hadn't been unfounded, because when he got back into the room, Jisung was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and smoothing down his bedhead. Renjun groaned. "Why are you awake?"

"I heard you showering," Jisung bit back. "Why were you going to leave without me?" He asked accusatorily, holding up the hastily-written note.

Renjun cringed. "With what happened yesterday, I think it's best if you stay at The Great Northern while I finish up my work here. It's not personal."

"But I want to come," Jisung said seriously. "I want to know more about the UFOs."

"Jisung, you're not an employee, and all this information is heavily classified. I don't know what I was thinking by telling you all that stuff about my work."

"Well, now I know," Jisung said slowly. "So what would be the harm if I came along for the ride? I promise I'll stay out of the way."

"No, Jisung," Renjun said firmly, putting his hands on his hips.

Despite his attempt at discipline, Renjun found himself in the car with Jisung only ten minutes later, a cup of black coffee in his hand and Jisung sipping from a huge thermos of hot chocolate. "So where are we going today?" He asked giddily.

"Crosswell Lake. Where that farmer spotted the craft."

"Why? Do you think it's still there?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But it probably left behind tracks, and it's my job to document them and try to cover them up before anyone sees."

"Cover them up? Why?"

"Why do you think? We're dealing with highly classified stuff here, Jisung. People aren’t _supposed_ to believe what they saw. And we can't let them have any information to validate their conspiracy theories."

"They're not conspiracy theories if they're right."

"Yes they are, because they have no evidence to back up their claims. And I make sure of that."

"That doesn't bother you?" Jisung's tone was laced with something bitter. "That you're lying to these people? Trying to make them believe that they're crazy?"

"And what's the alternative, huh? I tell them that it's entirely possible that they saw an alien spacecraft over their sleepy town?" Renjun slammed the rest of his coffee. "No one would believe them, anyways. Better to just let them think the whole thing was a trick of the light. Otherwise they'll never take off the tin hat."

"They'll go their whole lives wondering," he snapped back. "Don't pretend like you care about any of them. You're just another government cog, aren't you? Taking orders without question?"

Renjun's hands tightened around the steering wheel. "That's enough. Or I'll turn around right now and take you back."

Jisung huffed, slumping back against the carseat like an ill-tempered child. Renjun only just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

When they rolled up to the trail that led to Crosswell Lake, the rocky road crunching under the tires, the sun was just coming up over the horizon, and the forest looked like it was burning. Under any other circumstance, it would be pretty. But there was something eerie about it that made Renjun want to turn the car around and go back to the safe warmth of The Great Northern.

Instead, they ventured out.

The forest was quiet in the morning. Renjun noted the absence of any songbirds. All that could be heard was the sound of the trees gently creaking in the breeze. They were still bare from winter, and the ground was dry enough that Renjun didn't have to lament about the fact that he only had dress shoes to wear out into the woods. He would buy himself a brand new pair when he got back to DC as a treat for enduring such hardships.

Jisung gave him the silent treatment, stomping on all the sticks that came across his path so they each made a loud _crack_ sound. They hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary, and the trail was starting to widen as they neared the lake. It was a pretty sight when they emerged from the wood. The sunlight shimmered across the water as it rippled in the early morning breeze. Lake Crosswell wasn't very big, and they could easily see the shore opposite them. No ducks in sight.

"What are we even looking for out here?" Jisung moaned.

"You're the one who wanted to come with." Renjun shrugged. "I never said this was thrilling work."

Jisung didn't reply.

"We're just looking for anything strange. Anything noticeable. We don't have to be too precise; if someone finds something off the beaten trail twenty years from now, they'll figure out a way to explain it away. This is a small town, low-profile case. Not as big of a deal as it seems."

They walked the circumference of the lake in silence, but it was more peaceful than before. The redness at the tips of Jisung's ears had died down, even though they were out in the cold. Renjun was happy to see that they hadn't found anything particularly strange. The lack of wildlife was a telltale sign, but not anything to be worried about. No one would notice the absence of a few birds.

"Milo!" A voice suddenly pierced through the quiet, making both Renjun and Jisung jump.

"What was that?" Jisung asked fearfully, grabbing onto Renjun's jacket sleeve.

"A human, you idiot." Renjun jerked his arm away, cheeks growing warm. "Hello, Sir!" He called out, waving at an old man who had appeared from the thicket.

"Well, good mornin' to ya!" He yelled back. "Have either of you chilluns seen my dog?"

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

"Thank you for having us over, Mister Brown." Renjun smiled cutely as he accepted a cup of tea and a plate of cookies from the old man, who had introduced himself to them as 'Sandy Brown, a humble corn farmer' back at Crosswell Lake. He was the man that had called into the radio, he was sure of it. And he was hoping to get some solid information for his report.

His home was very humble. There were only two rooms, and one of them was a bathroom. The rest of his living space was condensed into one room in the rundown mobile home that he'd plopped right in the center of his property, with fields of corn stretching to the horizon on three sides. The back of the house faced the dense wood of Crosswell Forest. 

It seemed awfully lonely, but Renjun didn’t comment. Jisung seemed to be thinking the same thing, if the gentle smile and sad look in his eyes when he took his cup of tea were any indicator. He took a small, polite sip, and immediately felt the urge to spit it back in the cup. Renjun gulped it down anyways, putting the teacup back on the saucer and setting it down on the table with a gentle _clink._ He suspected Mister Brown used well water, and not very clean well water at that. 

“I’m really sorry you lost your dog,” Jisung said dismally. “We were looking all around the forest but we didn’t see or hear anything. Are you sure he isn’t in your fields somewhere?” 

“Well, that night, Milo heard somethin’ by the lake. Dunno what it was exactly; I only caught a slight glimpse and these are old eyes, but I followed him down there, and one moment he was there, and another he was gone.” 

“Like he just… disappeared into thin air?” Jisung asked. 

“That’s certainly what it looked like.” He smiled kindly and tapped his wiry glasses. “But like I said. Old eyes.” 

“Well we have four young eyes, so how about we help you with the search?” Jisung offered eagerly. Renjun groaned internally. He didn’t have time to run charitable errands. He wanted to get back to his apartment in DC and cuddle up in his favorite blanket and watch The X-Files (what? It makes him feel _cool_ ). 

“Well, if you’re up for the task. If you find ‘im, I have a little somethin’ that I can offer in return.” Now that perked Renjun up a bit, but only slightly. He imagined the man giving them a crudely hand-whittled crappie in return for their efforts, and he blanched at how unappealing that sounded. 

“What is it?” Jisung asked before he could.

“Well, that night, I found something that I _think_ was left by those lights in my cow,” the man said bemusedly. “Quite a pretty thing. Once I cleaned off all the blood, that is. I’ll give it to you if you can find my Milo.” 

Something left by the UFO? _Now_ Renjun was interested. If the old man had his hands on some evidence that could prove the events of that night, Renjun needed to confiscate it whether they found his dog or not. He considered pulling out his badge, sharing his credentials and ordering that he retrieve the artifact immediately, but Jisung, once again, spoke for them both. 

“Sounds like a deal!” He got up and shook Mister Brown’s hand, with Renjun looking on in frozen horror. 

“You boys come back before suppertime and I’ll make sure to get somethin’ in yer bellies for all that hard work,” he said joyously. “I’m makin’ rabbit stew tonight. The best in Bellefleur.” Renjun felt somewhat uneasy about the prospect of eating Mister Brown’s rabbit stew, but he just smiled and tried to look grateful anyways.

“We’ll do our best, Sir. Thank you for your hospitality.” 

“Anytime.” He hooked his thumbs into his suspenders and led them out the door. “If yer get lost in there, just holler. I’m sure I’ll hear ya.” He jokingly turned up the knob on his hearing aid, and Renjun forced out a hoarse laugh. 

“Will do, Sir.” 

The door shut, and when they turned around, they were met by the vast expanse that was Mister Brown’s cornfield. Going in all directions, as far as the eye could see. It was probably the most daunting thing Renjun had ever seen in his time as a Special Agent, and his job was to chase _literal_ UFOs. He smacked Jisung sharply on the back of the head.

“What the hell were you thinking, getting us into this mess,” he whispered harshly. “We’re _never_ going to find the dog in this maze.” 

“We have all day! We can scour the corn fields, and if we don’t find Milo then we can go back, choke down a bowl of rabbit stew, and ask if we can have the mystery UFO residue for our trouble.” Jisung bit down on an apple he’d stolen from the diner. “It’s a great plan. And more ethical than you pulling your gun on an old man so he’ll give us all he has to prove his dog was abducted by aliens.” 

Renjun contemplated this for a moment. This was definitely not how things would have gone down if the rest of his task force was there. They would’ve surely ordered that the man hand over the evidence or face legal trouble. Then they would’ve been out of there in a swift, slick manner, riding in the FBI car into the sunset (towards DC and his favorite blanket). 

He sighed. 

“I guess… it _would_ be really nice if we found his dog, huh?”

“Milo,” Jisung corrected. “And yes, it would be.” 

“Okay. We can try.” Renjun reached down and rolled up the cuffs of his pants. “But we need a plan. So we don’t get lost.” 

For the next few hours, Renjun and Jisung trekked through the tall ears of corn. It was boring work. Eventually, their throats got too raw from calling out for Milo, so they stayed quiet, listening intently for any rustling in the corn that could indicate Milo was near. 

They worked methodically, walking through the corn in straight lines until they reached the end, then walking a bit until they reached a section of corn they hadn’t searched and reentering the tall green forest. Jisung once thought he caught sight of the dog, but it turned out to be an old football, slowly decaying into the dirt. 

Renjun had the patience of a saint, really. It was necessary when doing this work. He often needed to wait for the right opportunity, the perfect moment to strike. So, walking around a cornfield for hours on end wasn’t entirely out of his wheelhouse. However, Jisung was another story. 

He got fidgety and nervous. He seemed to realize he’d bitten off more than he could chew, that the sheer scale of the cornfield might be a little too much for them to handle alone. Then, the sun started to become low on the horizon, and (if Renjun’s calculations were correct, and they always were) they hadn’t yet searched an entire quadrant of the cornfield. Everything looked golden, the hair on Jisung’s hair glowing like straw. Renjun had torn his jacket on some thorny brambles, and his hair laid flat on his head, no longer voluminous from his morning styling. 

“We should find our way back,” Renjun said. “I think the house is this way.” He pointed confidently into the corn, but Jisung wasn’t convinced. 

“No, that’s where we just came from. The house is this way.” He pointed stubbornly into the other direction. 

“Are you sure?” Renjun raised a brow. “Because I thought I was the only one who was paying attention for a while there.” 

“I’ve been paying attention!” 

“You started playing i-spy with yourself at around hour five.” Renjun pointed out. 

“Look! There’s smoke coming from over there. It’s probably Mister Brown making a fire for when we return.” 

Renjun squinted his eyes and found that there was indeed a thin line of smoke rising up in the distance. Maybe he _had_ gotten turned around. “Okay,” he said uneasily. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m positive,” Jisung said smugly. 

As the sun began to set more, and the sound of crickets came to a crescendo, Renjun realized that he knew very little about his… travel partner. He’d barely left his side for two days now and he still knew nothing about him other than what he’d seen from his file. And that he liked junk food.

“Jisung…” Renjun decided to test the waters. It was starting to get chilly and dark, the smoke slowly disappearing from their view as the sky darkened. 

“Yeah?” 

“Why were you trying to hack into the FBI’s UFO archives?” 

Jisung froze, and Renjun almost ran into his back. He turned around, so close that Renjun could feel the warmth of his breath on his cheek. His heart felt trapped in his throat, suffocating and beating like a drum. “I had a friend once,” he said slowly, gently. As if the words did not sit comfortably with his soul. 

“Go on,” Renjun encouraged. “I won’t tease you.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” He whipped back around, pushing through the corn faster. Renjun had to jog a little to keep up. 

“I used to go to this dumb summer camp with my friend when I was a kid. His name was Chenle.” He pushed aside one of the stalks of corn forcefully, like he was angry. It startled Renjun. “I convinced him to sneak out with me to go stargazing on top of one of the nearby hills. But while we were hiking up, he ran into the forest to prank me or something. He was an asshole like that.” Jisung stopped, as if catching his breath. “Something took him. Something with lights so blinding that I couldn’t see anything but white. I heard him screaming for me. He was scared.” 

“An abduction?” Renjun breathed. 

“I was sure of it.” Jisung nodded. “But I was just a kid. The next day, a bunch of guys in black suits rolled up and told me it was a coyote attack and they’d found his body a few miles away from where he was… attacked.” He sounded like he was getting choked up. Renjun wasn't sure what to do. "I knew he wasn't attacked by coyotes. I knew it. But no one listened to me."

"I'm sorry, Jisung," he whispered.

"It's not your fault." He shrugged, sniffing and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"I believe you."

"What?" Jisung turned slightly, and in the dimming light of the setting sun, Renjun could see the tear tracks cutting cruel lines down his cheeks. He couldn't help himself. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Jisung's middle, resting his head on his back.

"I believe you. And I'm sorry because I'm a part of what hurt you so much."

"I get it. You can't have little boys like me running around, crying wolf."

Renjun remained silent, at a loss for words.

"Collateral damage is inevitable, isn't it?" Jisung chuckled humorlessly. He moved his hands to rest them over Renjun's where they rested on his torso, pressing into his hungry stomach. "What I can't forgive... is that they didn't try."

"Hm?"

"They were so focused on getting everything covered up, on covering the tracks, that they didn't care that he was taken."

"He never...?"

"No one's ever seen him since."

"So that's why you were looking into the archives." It wasn't a question. Renjun's throat felt dry. "You wanted to figure out what happened to your friend?"

"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of what happened that day." Jisung squeezed his hands. The sun had set all the way under the horizon, and the column of smoke disappeared with it. Renjun thought they must look so strange. Him in his tattered suit and Jisung in his all-black casual attire, hugging in the middle of an endless field of corn. It was silly, and Renjun couldn't help but bury his face in Jisung's back and giggle. "What are you laughing at?" Jisung asked incredulously, feigning hurt.

"We're lost, aren't we?"

"I think we've been lost for a while."

"Fuck," he whispered.

Renjun moved away from him, freeing him from his clingy grip. He felt slightly embarrassed, but Jisung hadn't seemed to mind the hug, so he supposed it was okay. He hoped so.

They continued through the corn in a straight line, hoping that they'd eventually reach the edge. It seemed to never come. It felt like they were going in circles. Renjun could feel himself going crazy as he questioned every move. Were they really going straight? Hadn't they seen that old boot three times before? How long had they been walking? Renjun couldn't be sure, but they had lost all sense of direction. He’d never been so disoriented in his life.

That's why, when Renjun heard Jisung's whoop of excitement from a few paces ahead, he felt his heart leap with joy. He could see it. The break in the corn, a clearing beyond that gave him hope for a place to rest his feet and a bowl of hot rabbit stew (it had repulsed him previously, but he had had plenty of time to warm up to the idea). He broke into a jog, cheering along with Jisung as they ran towards the edge of the field. The leaves whipped against his face and he was sure they left tiny cuts on his cheeks in their wake. He couldn't be bothered, though. His sleek professionalism had long gone, left somewhere in the corn to rot like the tattered football. He didn't care, though. He was too elated to be free from their starchy prison.

But then, his heart sank like a rock into his stomach. When they finally reached the end of the corn, they found themselves in a perfectly circular clearing, with corn boxing them in on all sides. Jisung groaned, tugging on his hair in frustration. "We've been walking for hours. How have we not found our way out yet?" He huffed, sitting in the center of the circle with his arms crossed.

"I don't know... but something isn't right."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We should've found our way out by now..." Renjun trailed off, lost in thought. "Why is this here?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Seriously, Jisung. Why is all this corn flattened like this?" He kneeled down and ran his hand along the ground. Indeed, it wasn't just dirt that they were walking on. It was corn, flattened down so smoothly that it felt like they were walking on normal ground. It was still fresh, dry and not rotted into the ground in the least. Then, a realization as cold as ice hit him, trickling down his spine like a slow shiver. "We need to get out of here." He ran over to Jisung, pulling him up harshly by his arm.

"Ow! What's wrong with you?" Jisung yelped as Renjun pulled him towards the edge of the clearing. He yanked his arm from his tight grip, rubbing it gingerly and scowling. Renjun took a deep breath, telling himself to calm down. He was usually the cool-headed one. He needed to summon that kind of grace right now, as his eyes shifted helplessly across the sky. The corn seemed to tower over them now, less like safety and more like certain doom. He suddenly felt like there were a million eyes on him, and a million ears listening to his heart beating itself out of his chest.

"Jisung," he whispered, leaning close so that Jisung could hear him. Renjun hadn't been able to see him properly in the dark, but this close up, he could see a shimmer of panic in Jisung's eyes. "We're in a UFO nest. We need to leave as _quietly_ and _quickly_ as possible."

"What's- what's a UFO nest?" Jisung asked, audibly gulping like a frightened cartoon character. If Renjun wasn't also terrified, he would have laughed.

"A landing pad." Maybe it wasn't appropriate, but Renjun reached out and squeezed Jisung's hand, tentatively lacing their fingers together. "Please. Run with me."

"Okay," Jisung said breathlessly. And as if the eyes and ears had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, a horridly bright blue light shone down on them from the sky like a strange spotlight. A strong wind blew their hair back, and it shocked Renjun out of his stupor enough to tug on Jisung's hand. He stood staring, transfixed as he looked up into the light. They couldn't see anything beyond, but they could hear strange noises. Bizarre mechanical whirring and clicking so loud that they tore their hands apart to cover their ears.

Jisung fell to the ground, and Renjun tried to drag him away, towards the edge of the corn and away from the clearing, but he felt himself slipping away too. He felt a tug on his gut like he was falling. Like he was falling asleep way too quickly, plunging into deep, dark waters. He fell, his head pillowed by a soft bed of corn silk. "Jisung..." he called, not sure if the words ever even left his lips. The last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut was Jisung's eyes, closed with his eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks. Renjun tried to reach out, but found that he couldn't move.

He exhaled, letting himself fall the rest of the way. The whirring quieted, and so did his heart.

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

Renjun woke up violently, like he'd been having an awful nightmare. He flailed his limbs, hitting his hand against something soft and grimacing at the soft, sickening _thud_ it made. Something groaned beside him, and Renjun was scared it was a bear for a moment before he realized it was a human. Oh, right. Jisung.

He looked around, massaging the awful crick in his neck. They were in the car, facing the dreaded path that led to Crosswell Lake. There was daylight, and it poured down rain, as the forecast had predicted. It pounded against the windshield, plinking against the surface of the car in a way that made his skin crawl. The path ahead of them was swollen with water, muddied and spilling over.

Thunder rolled overhead.

He shivered.

"Renjun..." Jisung said suddenly, and he turned to face him. Renjun could feel that something was horribly wrong, but when he tried to think of _why_ , a cruel ache would shoot up his neck and into his head. Jisung was in the driver's seat, behind the wheel. _Why?_

"What-- what's happening?" Renjun asked, cradling the back of his neck. "Where are we?" _No, that's the wrong question._ "What time is it?"

Jisung pointed to the little clock on the dashboard of the car (it was running, the heat blowing so hot on his face that he thought he would burn). "2:00PM."

"Lost time," Renjun whispered, the pain in his neck growing to a crescendo. "Fuck," he gritted out. He could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. The pain was so blinding that it eclipsed any coherent thought.

"Are you okay?" Jisung asked, leaning over the console to turn his head towards him.

"My neck is killing me."

"Do you have any meds?" Jisung started rifling through the glovebox, looking for anything that could relieve Renjun's pain. He didn't find anything of use. Just some sudoku puzzles, spare bullets, the file, and a water bottle. He pulled out the bottle and uncapped it, bringing it up to his lips. "Drink. I'll get us back to the diner."

The headache had already begun to fade, but Renjun listened, taking small sips from the water bottle as Jisung fumbled to pull the car out of the little drive they'd been tucked into. "Can you even drive?"

"Of course I can drive, is that even a question?" They were jerked forward as Jisung hit a telephone pole, but Renjun chose not to comment; the cherry-red blush on Jisung's cheeks told him that he was already embarrassed enough. He did manage to get them back on the road (with Renjun's gentle guidance) and drove them back into town with the cute clumsiness of a newborn fawn. He completely missed the parking space in front of The Great Northern, so he had to stand and watch sheepishly as Renjun got back into the car and fixed it.

Renjun smiled fondly. Jisung avoided his gaze.

"Go back up to the room, okay? I'll ask Diane if she can make a fresh pot of coffee."

"Thanks, Jisung... Can you ask--"

"If she has any hazelnut creamer? Already planning on it." He saluted awkwardly. Renjun smiled, ruffling his hair before going up to the stairs to their room. He opened the door, and everything looked as it should be. Painfully _normal._ Renjun wasn't sure why that bothered him so much.

He called Mark, told him that he'd confiscated the tapes and that he'd be back on his way to DC the next morning. They engaged in some mindless chatter for a while, stuff about work and what Mark was going to eat for dinner. He laughed hollowly at an office anecdote about Donghyuck sending Jeno on a scavenger hunt around the FBI headquarters building to find his favorite coffee mug. He cut the call short, twisting the cord of the landline around his finger. He felt uneasy.

But before he could dwell on why, the door opened, and Jisung was walking in, balancing a mug of coffee precariously while also carrying a plate in his other hand. He focused on not spilling, staring down at the cup with his brows furrowed as he kicked the door closed behind him.

Renjun moved and took the mug from him. The coffee was dark as night. "No hazelnut creamer?" He pouted exaggeratedly, sipping on it. Bitter.

"Nope. I got some doughnuts, though." Jisung presented the heaping plate of doughnuts proudly, and Renjun's heart softened at the sight.

"Thanks, Jisung." He picked a fat, airy doughnut from the top of the pile, covered in powdered sugar and a little bit of raspberry jam leaking out of one end. "How'd you know I like jelly doughnuts?" It was a guilty pleasure. A once-every-two-years kind of treat for Renjun. 

"Well, I got one of everything." Jisung nodded to the (truly impressive) pile of doughnuts on the plate. "But I figured you're a cop, and all cops like doughnuts, right?"

"I am _not_ a cop," Renjun said with the utmost disgust, taking an aggressive _chomp_ out of his doughnut to get the message across.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't know that was a sore spot." Jisung held his hands up in surrender and laughed. He sat next to Renjun where he'd settled on the bed, smoothing his hands over his thighs. Jisung was always so awkward. It was cute.

"You should take off your shoes. They're caked with mud." Renjun wrinkled his nose when he saw Jisung's sneakers, all crusted with dirt and mud, flaking off and covering the floor. "How'd that happen, anyway?" Renjun set the doughnut back on the plate as another wave of pain washed over him.

"Must've been when we walked to the barber shop yesterday." He shrugged, kicking them off before curling up beside Renjun on the bed. It was a small twin, and they barely fit on it together. "My head hurts too... Maybe we just haven't gotten enough sleep."

"You're so mature." Renjun laughed, but he laid his head down on the pillows, cuddling into them comfortably. Jisung was close enough that he could feel his body heat, but not close enough that they were touching. A safe distance.

"I've lived alone for five years." Jisung turned over to face him. "I know the healing power of a nap."

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Renjun moved marginally closer, strangely transfixed by Jisung's eyelashes from that angle. "You're still just a kid. Don't try to grow up too fast."

"I think it's too late for that." He gave him a strained smile, and Renjun fell asleep with his fingertips brushing against Jisung's.

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

When Renjun woke up, it was dark out and the bed beside him was cold. The room was dimly lit by a street lamp outside, flickering every once in a while like the beat of a butterfly's wings. He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes with his fists like a baby. It was strangely quiet. The bathroom door was open, and there was no one inside... So where was Jisung?

He got up from the bed, switching on the lamp so he could see the room properly. He heard a shuffling sound come from the far side of the room, behind the second bed. Renjun hovered his hand over his gun as he tip-toed over, listening intently for any more noises. Suddenly, a figure sat up and startled Renjun so badly that he unholstered his gun.

"Holy shit, Renjun!" Jisung yelped. "It's just me!"

"Sorry," Renjun said sheepishly, securing the gun back in its holster. "I'm jumpy today... not sure why."

"Were you planning on going somewhere without me?"

"Hm?" Renjun asked questioningly as he straightened his suit jacket. He wasn't sure how it'd gotten so rumpled and dirty. He pulled his mini lint roller from the inner pocket and ran it along the sleeves.

"I found a note. On the floor."

"A note?" Renjun froze, throwing the lint roller back on the bed and leaning over Jisung's shoulder. Indeed, it was a note. In his handwriting, too. He plucked it from between his fingers, examining it closely.

_Jisung,_

_I'm out to run a few errands. Don't come looking for me. I'll be back by nightfall. Here's enough money for some food while I'm gone (please try to eat a vegetable)._

_\- Renjun_

"Where are you going?"

"I don't remember writing this..." Renjun trailed off. "Jisung, I think something's happened. Don't you get the feeling that something is... off?" Renjun walked over to the small window, peeking outside before drawing the curtains tight.

"I don't know... things are kind of fuzzy."

"Exactly." Renjun rushed to the bathroom, shocked to discover his disheveled appearance. He had thin cuts along his cheeks, his suit was covered in dirt, and his hair stuck up all around his head like a halo from hell. He pulled his emergency hand mirror out from his jacket pocket, trying to see the back of his neck in the mirror.

"What are you doing?"

"I've heard of this happening before," Renjun muttered under his breath.

"Heard of what happening before?"

"Jisung, can you see anything on the back of my neck? Is there a bump or a red line or anything?" Jisung moved towards him cautiously, like he was crazy. Renjun couldn't really blame him.

"There's a black speck..."

"Under the skin?"

"Yeah, just under the skin, I think."

Renjun nodded, rushing back into the main room to grab the letter opener from the set of drawers in the bedside table. He rushed back into the bathroom and thrusted it into Jisung's hands, who looked completely bewildered by the whole situation. "Renjun, what's going on?"

"Jisung. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need you to cut the implant out of my neck," he said, clutching Jisung's hands as they held the ivory handle of the letter opener.

"Renjun, I can't do that." His eyes widened in fear. "I can't hurt you."

"It's fine. I've endured much worse." He grabbed a hand towel off the counter to bite down on. "Jisung, please... I need you to do this."

"Why? What is it?"

"I think something happened yesterday." His head began to throb. "They don't want us to remember."

"Who's _they?_ "

"I can answer your questions later. For now, I need you to cut my neck open before I do it myself." Renjun looked at him with hard, determined eyes. Jisung seemed to get the idea, settling down behind him on the edge of the bathtub.

Renjun put the towel in his mouth once he felt the cool press of the blade against his skin. They probably should have sterilized it first, but Renjun supposed he could get workers' compensation if he ever got an infection. Jisung placed a warm hand on the side of his neck. He felt his thumb brush over the spot on his nape, where the knife was poised, and Renjun shivered with anticipation.

When he finally cut down, Renjun groaned out in pain. He could tell that Jisung was doing his best to just get it over with because he made quick work of it, digging the tip of the letter opener deep into the skin to try and pry the chip out from below. It was uncomfortable. The feeling of the letter opener wiggling around as Jisung tried to prize it from the flesh. It burned, but Renjun tried not to cry out for fear of scaring Jisung.

Finally, something gave, and Jisung leaned back in a slump. When Renjun turned around, there was a small piece of metal on the counter by the bloody letter opener. It was silver and glinted eerily in the light of the bathroom. Renjun leaned back until his back touched Jisung's chest. He hovered there tentatively, worried he was making Jisung uncomfortable, but then a pair of arms circled around his middle, pulling him closer. He sighed, letting himself bask in the feeling of another person's touch for a while.

It reminded him of being a child and skinning his knee. When his mother would blow on his wounds and cradle him in her arms.

"We went to Crosswell Lake yesterday," he said breathlessly. "We- we went to the farmer's house."

"What?"

"We lost a day." Renjun finally opened his eyes, looking up at Jisung. He wondered what he looked like through Jisung's eyes. An emasculated FBI agent, crazed and wounded like a wild animal? Did he see a friend in pain? Or did he see another lost soul, kindred in their waywardness?

Renjun wasn't sure. But what he did know was that, when he looked at Jisung, he saw vulnerability. He saw someone he wanted to protect with his life. He would do just about anything to keep the world from tainting him. Even if it meant betraying his oath.

"Jisung, I think you might have one too."

"I can feel it," he said, fingers brushing the back of his neck. "I can feel the pain."

"We need to cut it out."

"I know." Jisung chewed on his lip. Renjun lifted himself up - with great difficulty - and turned to face Jisung. He hugged him. Properly. He could feel Jisung sag into it, reaching those gangly arms to rest loosely around his waist. Renjun grabbed the letter opener from the counter, still covered in his blood, and sliced an opening on Jisung's nape. He hissed, thrashing a bit in his arms before biting down on his shoulder. He rested one hand on Jisung's head, stroking his hair gently as he worked the implant out of his skin. Once it was out, Renjun dropped the letter opener into the bathtub and focused his attention on Jisung, who was quietly whimpering into his sweater.

"I'm sorry." He squeezed him, rocking back and forth in an attempt to mollify him. "You did really well, kid."

"I don't want you to call me a kid anymore. Not after this," Jisung said huffily. Renjun scratched his scalp in response, placating. "I think I'm starting to remember..."

"Do you remember the corn field yet?" Renjun asked, leaning back to look Jisung in the eyes.

"We never found the dog." Jisung pouted, and Renjun couldn't stop himself from reaching out and pinching his cheek.

"That's what you're thinking about right now? We got abducted by aliens and you're thinking about the missing dog?"

"We came back... the dog didn't."

"You're cute." Renjun patted his cheek before standing up, a little wobbly from the pain. "We need to clean ourselves up. Then I think we deserve some burgers and fries, don't you think?"

"Are you gonna bug me about eating my vegetables this time?" Jisung prodded jokingly. He was starting to remind him of Donghyuck.

"No, but I shouldn't have to tell you that you need to eat your vegetables. You're an adult."

"Geez, I hope I'm not as boring as you when I work for the FBI."

"You better shut your mouth before I lock you in this room and let you _starve_ to death."

"I'm pretty sure you could get fired for that."

"Cheeky, are we?" Renjun smiled wryly. "Come on, I bet Diane has a first aid kit somewhere downstairs."

"Renjun, are we leaving tomorrow?"

"No doubt about it." Renjun laughed as he shrugged his jacket off. It was so tattered, Renjun decided it would be better to just go downstairs in his white button-up. He caught Jisung staring as he tucked it neatly into his slacks from the corner of his eye. "I don't even wanna stay the night in this fucking town, but I can't drive on the mountain roads at night." 

“But what about the farmer… he said he had something from the UFO, right?”

“I’ll report it to my supervisor, and he can decide if it’s worth going back for. But it won’t be me.” He grabbed Jisung’s hand as they left the room. “We’re getting the fuck out of here, once and for all.” 

“Are you gonna tell your supervisor about… well, you know,” Jisung asked as they went down the stairs, eyes shifting around distrustfully, seemingly worried that the paintings might be listening in, beady eyes trained on them like circling hawks. 

“I’ll have to, yeah.” Renjun bit his thumbnail in thought. “This is our work, you know. They’ll believe me. But… I don’t think an agent has ever been abducted before.” 

“Really?” 

“We usually just do damage control, you know? We’re not usually in the action like that.” Renjun wrung his hands. “Going into a UFO nest at night… No wonder that happened to us.” 

They reached downstairs, feeling unsettled and _famished._ Diane got them some alcohol to clean the cuts on their necks (with only a few probing questions, which Renjun expertly dodged) and two band-aids to keep them covered. She seemed to feel awfully sorry for them, because she sat them down at a table and offered them two crappie chowders on the house. Renjun was slightly terrified of the idea of crappie chowder, but was too nice to refuse. 

They waited for the food in a comfortable silence. The storm raged on outside, rain pounding onto the sidewalk angrily and the wind blowing in loud gusts, shaking the trees and rattling the windows. 

Jisung looked uneasy. It was probably the memories slowly coming back, filtering naturally back into their brains as the effects of the implants wore off. By the time Diane came back with their chowder, Renjun had remembered everything that Jisung had said in the cornfield. About the UFO, his best friend, the men in suits, the traumatic aftermath. And suddenly, Renjun was filled with an inexplicable guilt. 

“Your friend… Do you miss him?” Renjun asked, looking down at his chowder as he stirred it thoughtfully. 

“I do.” Jisung sighed. “I wouldn’t still be trying to find him if I didn’t.” He paused, taking a tentative slurp of the soup. “But I think it’s more than that now. You know, for my whole life I’ve been called crazy. I’ve been to psychiatrists, hypnotherapists, psychics, priests… and they always tell me the same thing.”

“What’s that?” Renjun set down his spoon, leaning in. 

“That I created a fantasy that’s easier to swallow because I can’t handle the reality. Because if he was abducted and not mauled by coyotes, there’s still a chance of him being out there somewhere.” 

“Jisung,” he said under his breath, so quiet that it sounded just like a puff of air escaping his lips, “you’re not crazy.” Renjun hesitated for a moment, once again wondering if he was crossing a boundary, before reaching over the table and taking Jisung’s hand in his. It was warm and dry and large. Renjun suddenly felt like he was the one being comforted and not the other way around. 

Jisung smiled slightly, squeezing his hand before slipping it out of his grasp to pick up his spoon. “We should eat before the chowder gets cold.” He ate a spoonful and grimaced. “If it’s this bad warm, I can’t imagine how disgusting it must be when it's cold.” 

Renjun laughed. “Don’t let Diane hear you. She’ll poison my coffee if she hears you slandering her crappie specials.” 

“I think she’s already poisoned us both with whatever abomination this meal is.” Jisung wrinkled his nose. “I can’t wait to get out of here and eat a whole McDonald’s worth of hamburgers.” 

“Why do you even like that place so much? It’s garbage.”

“It’s good! You’re just too much of a snob to admit it.” 

“I’m not a snob.” 

“Renjun, you carry around a comb in your belt by your gun.”

“And? Caring about your appearance doesn’t make you _snobby.”_ He scoffed. “Maybe you should care a little _more.”_

“Are you saying I’m ugly?” Jisung pouted minutely, insecurely smoothing down his hair. 

“No,” Renjun said quickly. “No, you’re not ugly at all. You’re cute.” 

“You think I’m cute?” Jisung had frozen in place, hands stilling where they rested atop his head, eyes wide and searching. 

Renjun looked away, into his bowl of crappie chowder, which seemed a lot more compelling now than it had before. “Sure, you’re cute,” Renjun murmured. Jisung looked like he was thinking of what to say next, but Renjun’s attention was already elsewhere. A car pulled up to the diner, red and blue lights flashing on top and a tinny siren blaring over the whistle of the wind. 

Sheriff Dunby came striding in, water sloshing out of his sheriff’s hat. “Diane, have you seen Roger Shortfield recently? The radio jockey?”

Diane shook her head slowly, her dangly earrings swinging with each movement of her head like sparkly pendulums. “No, I haven’t. Did somethin’ happen?”

“His wife reported ‘im missing. Said he was goin’ to find the UFO las’ night and never came home. Probably got himself drunk and drowned in Crosswell Lake.” He lowered himself onto one of the barstools at the counter, taking off his hat and shaking the water out onto the floor. “Say, Diane, you got any cherry pie left?” 

“Sure do.” She grinned. “You want that warmed up?”

“If you would,” he said gruffly. 

Renjun and Jisung listened intently, tucked out of sight in one of the big red booths. Jisung leaned over the table, eyes filled with worry. “The radio host. Should we say something about the other day?” 

“No, I don’t see what good that would do.” Renjun chewed on his bottom lip. “He went missing last night… while he was searching for the UFO. Do you think he was abducted?” 

“Oh.” Jisung slumped back in his seat. 

“We need to get out of this town.” Renjun wiped his mouth aggressively with a napkin before throwing it down onto the table. “I’ll call Mark and tell him we’re leaving tonight. He can send more members of the task force to clear up the situation down here.”

“But we’re already here!” Jisung exclaimed, drawing the attention of Diane and Sheriff Dunby. “And didn’t you say you couldn’t drive through the mountains at night, anyways? Come on, Renjun, there has to be something we can do.” 

“Like what?” He snapped. His eyes shifted over to where Diane and Sheriff Dunby sat with coffee cups hovering halfway to their mouths. Renjun leaned in so he was whispering directly into Jisung’s ear. “My mission was to get you to DC. We weren’t supposed to be here for more than a day, and I’m ill-equipped to deal with an abduction. It’s not safe here, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you under my watch.” 

“The officer clearly isn’t interested in looking for him. What if he’s out there, lost and in the rain. Isn’t it your job to protect people?” 

“Not necessarily,” Renjun bit out. “Right now, my job is to get us back to DC safely. I can write up a report and request further investigation once we get back to headquarters.”

“But they’re not going to do anything, are they?” Jisung asked, and Renjun was surprised by the malice in his voice. The heatedness of it _stung._ “You’re not going to do anything. Because you don’t really care about the people that are lost as long as your dirty little secret doesn’t get out.” 

“Jisung, this is the man who held a gun to your head--”

“Who cares! He has a _family.”_ Renjun could see the slightest shine of tears in his eyes. “He has people who care about him, and you’re just about the only person in the world who has the ability to save him, and you’re just going to _file a report?”_

Renjun stood up, looking down at Jisung as sternly as he could muster. “I’m doing the best I can. There’s nothing I can do about this right now. What I _can_ do is get us out of this freaky town before one of us gets hurt.”

When Jisung stood up from the booth, he towered over Renjun, looking down at him like gum on the bottom of his shoe. “I thought you were different from them. If you think you’re going to get me to work for ‘ _Mark’_ or any others of your kind, you’re wrong. I’d rather die.” 

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” Renjun said through gritted teeth. “Get upstairs and pack your things. We’re leaving.” 

Something flashed in Jisung’s eyes that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He settled on resignation, because Jisung simply huffed and stomped his way up the stairs towards their room. 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

Renjun felt heavy as he packed his small suitcase. He only had a few things: his toothbrush, a mini tube of toothpaste that had been nearly squeezed to death, spare bullets, a spare suit, and a flare gun. But tucked away at the very bottom, where he hadn’t noticed it before, was a photo. Renjun held it gently in his hands as he stared at it. 

It pictured two little boys, standing in their swim truck on the beach. They were smiling big, toothless grins and one of them had an ice cream cone squished on the top of his head like a hat, lines of pink cream streaking down his cheeks. It was Jisung, Renjun realized. Jisung as a little boy. He had the same crinkly eyes and heart-shaped lips. The picture must’ve fallen out of the file that Mark gave him. 

He felt something tug at his heart. He grazed his fingertips over the photo. The other boy was sticking his tongue out at the camera gleefully, pointing at the ice cream cone melting off of Jisung’s head. Jisung, in retaliation, had a peace sign hovering above his head to make bunny ears. 

It must be Chenle. 

Renjun’s heart ached as the picture twisted into something different. A horrible, evil story of a little boy losing someone he loved. Chenle’s dark eyes bore into him accusatorily, and Renjun’s skin crawled with the feeling. He folded the picture and tucked it under his old suit (the dirty, tattered one), where it would be hidden from his view but not his thoughts. 

Renjun double-knotted his shoes for good luck before picking up his suitcase, back straight as he looked at the room one more time. It was still as ugly and dreadful as it had been the first night they stayed there, but Renjun felt somewhat fond of the drab wall decor and mildewy curtains. 

Jisung had finished packing before him, angrily throwing his belongings into the paper McDonald’s bag that he had first stuffed his things into when Renjun forced him out of the Super8 Motel in Florida City. That felt like ages ago now. 

He was probably sulking downstairs, looking so much like a kicked puppy that Diane would try to feed him more crappie chowder to try and cheer him up. As much as Renjun hated seeing him hurt (even more that _he_ was the one who caused it), he was cute when he was angry. The little puff of his cheeks and how, despite being almost a whole head taller than Renjun, he looked about as imposing as a chipmunk. When he’d left the room, he’d accidentally shut the door a little too hard, and Renjun heard a fretful _sorry_ through the wood. 

He smiled to himself. Maybe when the sun came up and they could make it to a McDonald’s, this whole thing would blow over. Renjun would give Jisung a couple days to recover from his anger to introduce him to Mark, and then he’d _have_ to become a permanent member of the task force after all that he’d seen and heard. Maybe they’d have neighboring office cubicles, and Renjun could pass him colorful notes over the walls. 

These were the optimistic thoughts Renjun dwelled on as he descended the stairs, suitcase in hand and whistling a happy tune. He wasn’t even worried about going through the mountain pass at night, since staying another minute in Bellefleur seemed even more horrid than falling 1,000 feet to his fiery death. 

Renjun was just _that_ sick of crappie fish. 

When he made it downstairs, Renjun could immediately tell that something was… off. Diane and Sheriff Dunby looked at him uneasily, coffee mugs still full and probably cold as ice. Renjun was trained to be acutely aware of his surroundings, to not miss minute details that could give him a lead. That’s why he noticed the coffees, and that’s why he noticed that there was no Jisung in sight. Very perceptive indeed. 

"Have you seen Jisung?" He sidled up to the counter, managing to keep his panic to a minimum.

"He came downstairs a few minutes ago..." Diane trailed off. "Poor boy looked like he was in a big 'ol tizzy. Did you two fight?"

"Officer, I'm going to need to take your vehicle." Renjun flashed his badge for good measure, just to preemptively quash any attempts to defy him. "Now."

Renjun must've _really_ sounded like he meant business, because Officer Dunby made no attempt to argue, only scrambling to fish his keys from his pocket before tossing them over to Renjun where he stood by the door.

Jisung was only a few minutes ahead of him. Maybe, if he hurried, he could catch up to him before anything happened. Before he could reach the danger zone. He drove a little recklessly. Well, a lot recklessly. The rain pounded on the windshield, and Renjun could barely see a foot in front of the car. Yet, he raced down the gravel road at 45mph, kicking up rocks which pounded against the car unpleasantly. It'd be nicely scuffed up by the time he returned it to Officer Dunby.

When he reached the trail that led to Crosswell Lake, the FBI car was there, parked with the lights still on. Renjun sighed in relief. He pulled up next to the car quickly, much more frantically than an FBI agent should ever act. For once, he wasn't really thinking logically. He hadn't taken the time to stop and be calculative like he usually was. Renjun wondered what happened to the methodical plan-man that he used to be.

Renjun decided that fear could be a powerful influence.

So could love, he added thoughtfully.

He got out of the car, the rain coming down so hard that it stung his skin. The wind blew his hair out of place, strong enough to make him stumble a bit in surprise when he left the car. He knocked on the window of the FBI car, but no one answered. He felt his heart sink when he peered through the windows to see that the car was empty.

Renjun straightened up, facing the path to Crosswell Lake. It had overflowed with water, where there was once a discernible trail had become a muddy marsh. Renjun shedded his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves and venturing in.

He could feel mud seeping into his shoes as he walked through the forest. The trees moaned and creaked all around him in the wind. He was worried one of them would fall, crush him under its weight. It was a much more viable fear than alien abduction, that was for sure.

The path was longer than he remembered. He sloshed through the rain and mud for what felt like hours. He called out for Jisung, but it was futile with the roaring sounds of the rain and wind drowning out his voice. Water dripped from his bangs and into his eyes. The mud came up to his shin and he was fairly certain that he'd lost a shoe somewhere along the way.

But Renjun ventured on, ever-determined. This time, it had nothing to do with duty. Really, Renjun was just worried. He was scared something would happen to Jisung. Whether he be crushed by a tree, abducted by aliens, or stuck waist-deep in a mud pit somewhere didn't matter. Renjun didn't care about the aliens anymore. He just wanted Jisung safe.

When he reached the edge of the woods, the rain seemed a little calmer, almost like he'd reached the eye of the storm. Crosswell Lake was swollen, creeping up the banks and lapping at the treeline.

It was hard to see anything, since the rain fell so hard that it looked like a grey veil, obscuring Renjun's vision. He wiped the water from his eyes and pushed his hair back, squinting at the lake. There was something there. Well, there were many somethings. Black masses floated on top of the water eerily, riding the harsh ripples on the surface of the water.

Renjun got closer to the water, wading into the muddy shallows. He reached down and picked up one of the black masses that floated around his feet. It was slimy and cold, and Renjun wasn't sure what he was looking at until a flash of lightning lit up the sky, and a milky eye gleamed up at him. He dropped it back into the water, mud splashing all over his front.

The crappies were all dead, floating lifelessly on top of the lake.

"Jisung!" Renjun screamed. The wind whipped his hair into his eyes, and he desperately pushed it away, squinting to see into the lake. In the distance he could see something, in the middle of the lake, something much larger than a crappie. Renjun's blood ran cold. "No..."

Without thinking, he dove into the water. He wasn't a very good swimmer; he never had been. He'd only learned how at the FBI training academy, since they deemed it an "essential skill." Renjun had rolled his eyes at that. He'd never needed to swim before, and he didn't see why it was incredibly important for his work. He'd maintained that position for the two years that he'd spent working, but now he was eating his words.

He tried to remember what he'd learned in class. Tried not to panic as he felt the cold seep into his skin and the dead corpses of crappies brush against his arms with every breaststroke. He tried to breathe, but often found himself inhaling the muddy water. He coughed, but never stopped swimming. He was worried that if he did, he would sink to the bottom of the lake like a stone.

He was reaching the middle of the lake, and as he got closer he could see the shape of a human body become clearer. As if parting a curtain, the misty rain dissipated completely, and the waters felt calmer, gently rippling with every one of Renjun's movements.

Jisung laid face-up in the water, lips parted and eyes closed tight. His skin was flushed red from the cold, and his lips had lost their usual color. Renjun took a deep breath before grabbing him under his armpits and heaving him towards the shore. He desperately tried to keep their heads above water with Jisung's weight pulling him down. He kicked his legs wildly, spitting muddy water out of his mouth as he sucked it through his lips.

He was growing tired. He kicked his legs as hard as he could, against the wind and the pull of gravity. He was so cold, and it would be so easy to simply let go and let himself fall into the quiet depths of Crosswell Lake to be eaten by hungry crappies.

But Renjun liked to believe he had a fighting spirit, so he hauled Jisung through the turbulent waters, and he could've cried when he finally felt his feet sink into the muddy bottom. He laid Jisung down at the edge of the lake, rain pounding down on them and a threatening rumble of thunder overhead. Renjun could barely make out Jisung's face in the darkness.

"Come on, Jisung," he whispered, slapping the boys cheek lightly. "Come on." He moved Jisung's wet bangs out of his face, cupping his cheeks and watching for any sign of life. He was cold as ice.

He sobbed dryly, moving his fingers to Jisung's pulse. There was warmth there; right on his jugular, where Renjun could still feel the faint throb of his heartbeat. Relief flooded Renjun, blocking out any feeling of fatigue from swimming through the lake. When he placed a finger under his nose, he could feel small puffs of air, but they were short and sporadic.

Renjun laced his fingers together, placing the heels of his palms firmly on Jisung chest before starting compressions. "Come on, Jisungie. Please," he murmured under his breath. After 30 compressions, Renjun leaned down to tilt Jisung's head back, plugging his nose. He hesitated for a moment, staring at Jisung's lips. They were pink. He took a deep breath before leaning down to fit his mouth over his.

Then, quite suddenly, Jisung coughed, and lake water was spewed all over Renjun's face. He sat in shock for a moment, water and bile and mud smeared across his face. He was suddenly grateful for the downpour as it washed the foul-smelling concoction from his skin. He placed a hand on Jisung's back as he coughed, coming back from the brink of death. "Hey," he said as the hacking died down. Jisung looked up, and Renjun was so happy to see the glimmer of his eyes in the dark, lively and bright.

"Hey," he replied hoarsely. "Renjun, I'm so--"

"Shut up."

"What?"

_"I'm_ sorry." He leaned forward and pulled Jisung into his arms. They swayed back and forth, gentle and unmoved by the wind. Renjun could feel the mud squelching beneath his knees, soaking into the expensive fabric of his suit. He tightened his arms around Jisung, feeling himself shake from a sob. He was stone-still, only awkwardly rubbing his hand across the expanse of his back. They were soaking wet, freezing from the lake, but Jisung's embrace was surprisingly warm.

"Renjun..."

"It's okay, you don't need to say anything."

"No, Renjun... look," Jisung said, voice shaking. When Renjun looked up, he saw a strange light coming from beyond the trees on the other side of the lake. 

“Shit. We have to get out of here,” Renjun said frantically, scrambling to his feet and slipping precariously in the mud. “Jisung, come on.”

The light was getting brighter, and they could hear a rhythmic beeping and whirring sound over the roar of the wind. The craft started to raise up weightlessly, like it was floating on air. It was a classic saucer, not as big as others Renjun had dealt with, but still formidable from this close up. It moved towards the lake, brushing the tops of the trees as it went. 

Renjun tried to get away, but he was suddenly filled with an inexplicable feeling of anger and vengefulness. Jisung’s life had been utterly destroyed to rubble because of the haphazard meddlings of these extraterrestrial beings. So while Jisung cowered in the mud in fright, Renjun decided to stand. 

He picked up a heavy rock and threw it as hard as he could. It didn’t reach the UFO, not by a long shot, but it felt cathartic nonetheless. 

“GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM, YOU SADISTIC FREAKS,” he screamed, picking up another rock and chucking it into the lake. Jisung’s eyes bugged out like a cartoon character, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The UFO stopped in midair, hovering over the lake, clicking and whirring as if thinking about its next move. “ARE YOU SCARED? SCARED OF A FEW ROCKS?” He threw another one, and this time it connected with the exterior of the spacecraft. It made a funny sound upon impact. A low, reverberating hum that shook Renjun’s eardrums. 

“YEAH! FUCK OFF TO WHATEVER PLANET YOU CAME FROM!” Jisung was on his feet, arms full of rocks as he joyfully chucked them at the UFO. They laughed wildly, like madmen. The craft made no move to stop them, only remained hovering above the lake. Once they were out of rocks, they stood and waited, panting from the exertion. They didn’t try to run away. 

The UFO flashed brightly, almost like a bolt of lighting, blinding them momentarily. But when the light cleared, the UFO was gone, and the rain stopped. 

Everything was surprisingly calm. The world was silent aside from the sounds of their own breathing. Renjun stood still, looking up at the sky. There was an odd clearing in the clouds, a perfect circular cutout where they could see the starry night sky. 

He grabbed Jisung’s hand as they watched a shooting star streak across the sky. 

~🌲🌟🛸🌟🌲~

_“Mr. President, the aliens have invaded. We need to get you to safety as soon as possible.”_

_“Well what are you standing around for? Escort me to the bunker immediately!”_

_“Sir, what about the first lady?”_

_“Who?”_

_“The first lady, Sir.”_

_“Well, I suppose she can come too.”_

A voice crackled over the walkie-talkie. _“Code blue falcon. The aliens are in the White House. I repeat, the aliens are in the White House.”_

A line of sweat ran down the President’s temple. _“Quick, let’s get out of here!”_

_“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave, Mr. President.”_ Then, the agent pulled his mask off to reveal he was one of the martians all along. When he grinned his evil grin (while laughing his evil laugh), he revealed a set of sharp, pointy teeth. 

“I knew it!” Jisung yelled in delight, jumping in excitement so his popcorn went flying onto Renjun’s lap. Renjun sighed and ate the extra kernels, sucking the butter flavor off his fingers.

“Jisung, this show is so corny,” Renjun whined as the agent on TV slurped the president’s intestines like spaghetti. “Can’t we watch something that doesn’t have to do with aliens? Haven’t we had enough of those?” 

“Never,” Jisung said through a mouthful of popcorn. He hadn’t changed. They were curled up on the couch at Renjun’s house, enjoying another one of their movie nights. It had been almost a year since they met, the autumn fog creeping in and signs advertising corn mazes popping up around town. 

“You’re such a kid.” Renjun smiled, happily munching on the popcorn. “Next time, though, I get to pick the movie.” 

“Okay,” Jisung acquiesced. “Just don’t pick anything boring again.”

Renjun punched him in the arm. “This is my house, you know. I won’t hesitate to kick you out once you start slandering Twilight.” 

“I never would have guessed those were your favorite movies when I met you,” he groaned. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.” 

“Shut up,” Renjun hissed, but he secretly enjoyed the compliment. “You have popcorn seasoning all around your mouth.” He giggled, reaching up to wipe Jisung’s mouth with his sleeve.

“Gross!” Jisung grimaced, scrunching his nose cutely. 

They were close, all snuggled up together on the couch. Jisung had gotten more handsome since he’d met him. He was well-fed and happier, and it showed. He practically glowed. He’d been handsome when they’d first met, but now Renjun couldn’t help but think he was absolutely stunning. 

Renjun smiled coyly, resting his hand over Jisung’s, still so soft and warm. He tilted his head and sought Jisung’s lips. They stayed hovering near each other for a few moments, breathing little puffs of air on each other’s faces. Jisung’s face was flushed all the way down to his neck, and Renjun brought a hand up to cup the back of his neck, thumbing across his scar. 

But before Renjun could lean in all the way and capture Jisung’s lips, his phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump and bump noses with Jisung. Renjun smiled, pinching his cheek before answering the phone. 

“Huang and Park, Professional Extraterrestrial Private Investigators. How can we help you?” He hummed and nodded into the phone, copying down an address on a pad of paper. Jisung rubbed his sore cheek as he waited for Renjun to be done. “That sounds perfectly manageable, Mrs. Palmer. We’ll be in touch.” He hung up the phone and immediately squished Jisung’s cheeks between his palms, kissing his puckered lips with a smile. 

“Where to this time?” Jisung asked (with some difficulty, considering Renjun’s tight grip on his cheeks). 

“Pack your bags, baby. We’re going back to South Carolina.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if ur reading this, thank u so much for having interest in this lil baby of mine !! it was a labor of love (most of the time lol) so i always appreciate kudos and comments when ppl are willing to give them !! if my prompter is reading this, i hope it fulfilled all your hopes and dreams :] thank u again !!!!
> 
> u can find me here:   
> [twt](https://twitter.com/crescentjunnie)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/crescentjunnie)


End file.
